


In front of you

by Boytownblues



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, FirstPOV Louis, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, I should still tag that so, M/M, Mentions of Past Overdose, OT4, Past Louis Tomlinson/Dougie Poynter, Past Zayn Malik/Louis Tomlinson, Pining, Smut, Tequila, although it is accidental, dumb boys, louis is dumb, sorry for the Dougie-thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-25 02:04:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12025776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boytownblues/pseuds/Boytownblues
Summary: I stand next to the sofa, looking down at Harry’s sleeping form. His long hair’s a mess, dark curls spilling everywhere and he has replaced the pillow he threw on his face with his left arm, just barely covering his eyes as if the light is bothering him. Actually, it’s bothering me as well, so I shuffle over to the window, closing the blinds and leaving the winter sun outside. I keep staring at Harry, something unfamiliar moving inside of me as my eyes follow the lines of one of the swallow tattoos on his chest. I shake my head, trying to get rid of that feeling. Enough of this.---Or, the one where Louis thinks he's hung up on his ex, and is completely blind to anything, oranyone, else.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright. I'm posting this as a one shot, with an extra chapter for the epilogue.
> 
> I apologise profusely for not finishing my other fic, _All of it,_ I am removing it as soon as I've posted this. I will continue on with it at another time in my life when, hopefully, I can be in a better place to finish it.
> 
> I am eternally grateful for my best friend and amazing beta Ell, for supporting me, for giving me pep talks at ungodly hours and for just standing by me through all my whining and insecurities. I love you!
> 
> I should also mention that at one point in the story, there is a description of an ACCIDENTAL overdose on sleep-meds, the person survives and is later on fine, but if that's a trigger for you, you probably shouldn't read it. 
> 
> Disclaimer:  
> You all know this, but I still have to say it; This is a work of fiction. None of this is real, it's all fake and never happened, and it does not in any way represent my opinion or thoughts of the actual people depicted in this.
> 
> Titel from The Vamps - Wake Up (inspirational song for this fic)  
> So. Here we go. IIIIHHH!

_November_

I take a deep drag from my cigarette, feeling my chapped lips scrape against the filter. Exhaling the smoke out in a steady stream, before watching it disperse in the cold air around our heads. 

”You know that I don’t really hate coming back here, don’t you?” I ask Niall, watching him flick the end of his cigarette with his thumb, wrinkling his nose while he blows out smoke. He doesn’t usually smoke so he’s probably doing it to keep me company. Niall’s the best.

“’course I do, man,” he says, his blue eyes telling a different tale. 

I sigh, taking another deep drag from my cigarette before mimicking his previous flicking motion.

“I’m serious, I love coming home and spending time with you lot, I do. But it just feels awkward being here without Zayn,” I say with a nod towards the door of _History_ , the pub that was our second home during our late teens and early twenties. 

“Listen,” he says before taking a short drag of his cigarette. “I get it, it’s weird, and it is hard watching you cringe every time the door opens and that obnoxious bell chimes and you think it’s him.” His Irish accent comes out thicker than normal after a few pints. “But he knows you’re home for the weekend and it’s not like he’ll show up here now. And this is your home and we are your family. This place,” he points his cigarette to the window, behind which the rest of the “we” he’s talking about are seated with their pints. “It’s ours, not his. Not anymore. It was on loan to him while he was with you,” he finishes. And he’s right. Of course he is.

“You’re right, of course you’re right. I’ll snap out of it.” I smile and take a final drag of my cigarette. “And don’t hate on the bell, man, that’s the sound of youth,” I tell him as I’m putting the cigarette out in the big pot just outside the door. “Enough of this, let’s get back inside. My fingers are about to fall off.”

Back inside I rub my hands together before cupping them, blowing hot air inside. I get back to my seat, pulling my coat off and hanging it over my chair, mumbling “loo” to no one in particular before heading further back into the pub. I lock the door and send a silent “thank you” to whomever it was that decided on not making urinals before having a quick wee. I pull my skinnies back up and buttoning them up before thumping back down on the toilet lid. 

Leaning backwards with a long sigh, I scrape my fingers down my slightly scruffy face. When was the last time I shaved? I wonder briefly before realising I haven’t washed my hands since…well, since we got here. “Fuck, nasty…” I mutter and head over to wash my hands while studying my face in the mirror, tired blue eyes staring back at me. The scruff actually doesn’t look that bad, to be honest. I give my hair a once over, quickly messing up my fringe a bit before taking a deep breath and heading back out, not bothering closing the door. 

“Hey, Lou! Niall here says you’re thinking about staying until Monday, that true?” Liam says as I reach the table.

“Yeah, I was thinking about it, as long as Harry’s willing to share his bed with me,” I say with a grin as I reach for my pint, gulping down a third of it, looking to Harry who just grins back as he brings his own pint to his lips.

Niall rolls his eyes. “When has he ever not been okay with you in his bed?” he says with a smirk. That makes Harry snort into his beer, which of course also leads to him to spluttering beer all over Liam’s face in a coughing fit.

“What the fuck, Niall!?” He shrieks while I’m trying not to laugh and Harry tries to catch his breath from coughing and laughing. I slap him on the back, trying ease his breathing.

“I’m fine,” he wheezes, trying to make me stop by doing vague waving motions with his arm.

“Smooth, Styles,” I say as he twists in his seat, grabbing the offending hand I’ve been slapping him with. He’s smiling so hard now that I think his dimples are going to dig permanent holes in his cheeks. I very nearly put my finger in one of them, but stop myself at the last minute. Because that would be…strange?

“Stop slapping me!” he says, still holding my hand to keep me from hitting him. I tug our hands up and give his hand a quick kiss and a squeeze before placing it gently back in his lap. He looks down on his hand like it’s foreign to him, clenching and unclenching his fist a few times before looking back up at me. Seemingly unable to completely hide the look of fond on his face before smiling, he lifts his hand to clutch around his glass instead. 

Now that was even weirder than me wanting to poke his dimples, right? My stomach does a strange swoop as I drag my fingers gently over my lips, still feeling how warm Harry’s hand felt against my lips. _Weird_. 

“Niall, thank you, that’s quite enough” I hear Liam say across the table and I feel my eyebrows furrow while still staring at Harry, who is now determinedly looking out the window. Huh.

I lean sideways and whisper, “Something wrong? to him, ignoring the feeling in the pit of my stomach. He jolts, snapping his head in my direction me, his green eyes wide and sad. 

“No,” he whispers back, “Why’d you ask?”

“Oh okay, no, I don’t know, you’re quite… low-key tonight and…”

“And what?” He asks, a bit snippy. 

“ _And_ ,” I continue in a more determined tone. “I haven’t really heard from you in a while before I got back this afternoon, and now you’re being all…” I make vague hand-motion at his face.

“I’m being _what_? Out with it, Lou!” Harry exclaims, now seeming more annoyed than sad.

“You’re being skittish! And it’s freaking me out a little,” I say and notice that the table’s gone really quiet. I look over to Niall and Liam who are staring at us with raised brows. Harry and I are not usually the loud, arguing kind of people. Well, Harry’s not anyway. I ignore them.

“Skittish? What does that even mean?” Harry says, now in his regular tone, low and slow. He seems to also be ignoring our friends.

“You know, all squirmy and stuff,” I say while showing with my body what ‘squirmy’ is. Niall snorts at that and a small smile threatens to break lose over my face. I catch Harry’s eye and he looks like he’s about to either start crying or laughing. It ends up being the latter and I release the breath I’d apparently been holding, giggling in relief. 

“I’m sorry, I’m having a strange week, or month actually, didn’t mean to be…’squirmy’,” Harry apologises, looking back down at his hands.

“No worries, I’m sorry for being pushy,” I say and lean in to kiss his cheek. Harry pulls away at first and I pause, but it’s only for a second before he stays still so I can graze his cheek with my lips. I frown a little, since when are we ever opposed to touching? I decide to let it go for now, ignoring the tingling sensation in my lips and the sinking (but at the same time swooping) feeling in my gut.

“Also, share your troubles with the class, Haz! Hah, that rhymes!” Niall says from the other side of the table. 

Harry snorts, but then says “Oh, I don’t know, ever since Alex and I broke up-” the table erupts in ‘boos’ at the mention of his ex-boyfriend and Harry smiles a little before continuing in his slow drawl, “since we broke up, I’ve just had a hard time sleeping and it’s affected my teaching, and obviously the students have noticed, so my boss has been informed, and well… I might be on the brink of, like, unemployment if I don’t ‘get my shit together’.” He makes citation marks in the air. 

“Then yesterday my freezer broke down during the night so I woke up to find a small pond in my kitchen and these sad little peas, like, floating around in it. Don’t ask me how they got out because I haven’t got a bloody clue, but I had a lot of fish and other stuff in there, all gone to shit now. Also, I think my cat hates me.” He lifts his now empty glass, “ _And_ I finished my pint! I hate my life.” He finishes with a huff and big pout on his face. Me, Niall and Liam look at each other and then at the pouting, grown man sitting beside me and we all burst out in hysterical laughter.

“My best mates, everyone! Thanks a lot,” Harry scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest and making us laugh even harder.

“We’re sorry!” Liam manages between fits of hiccup-y laughter. 

“I’m not!” I wheeze. “That was ace, oh god the look on your face!”

“Have you quite finished?” Harry keeps pouting, but the left side of his mouth is twitching and soon he’s laughing just as hard. His wheezing laughter makes my whole body fill up with warmth at the familiarity of it all, and I am once again struck by the unexplainable need to poke his dimples. I refrain though.

Eventually the laughter dies out and I offer to go buy us another round, returning with two jugs of beer, the bartender following with a tray of four tequila shots that he sets down on the table. “Thank you, babes,” I tell him while attempting a flirtatious smile, getting a little smirk and a headshake in return. That’s alright, I’ll take it.

“Give it up Lou, he’s straight” I hear Liam mumble in a sing songy voice while dividing the shot glasses between the four of us.

“Hey, can’t blame a lad for trying,”I say in return, shrugging as I pour beer into my glass.

“But you’ve been ‘trying’ for years! It ain’t gonna happen, man” he says, and I scoff.

“I have not been trying for years…” I mutter before turning to Harry. “And hey, I’m sorry about you and Alex, I keep forgetting that I’m not the only one who’s recently single,” I say as I finish filling up the other lads’ glasses.

“’s okay,” he says. “You have more reason to be upset, I mean you were with Zayn for more than a year and I and Alex were only together for like six months. And let’s face it, Alex wasn’t really all that great.” He scrunches up his nose in mild disgust. “I can’t believe it’s affecting me this much, to be honest, it’s quite pathetic.”

“Hey, don’t call my best friend pathetic!” I chastise. “It’s okay to grieve even if it was brief and bad.”

“Same goes for you, you know,” he mumbles, eyes sincere. 

I so _do not_ want to talk about this. Zayn and I were good for a while, but then we weren’t. So… better to up and leave before it got any messier. 

“Alright, enough of this!” I say while shaking my head, feeling the sudden need to lift the mood. Here’s to the drowned peas on Harry’s kitchen floor, may they rest-”

“Oh God, don’t say it,” Niall groans, but I’m looking at Harry who’s grinning from ear to ear, winking at me.

“… in peace!” He and I finish in unison, cracking up at the same time.

“They said it,”, Niall mutters and I turn to grin at him, downing my shot while reaching for one of the lemon-slices, the same one Harry is reaching for and our fingers brush for just a second. I hear him inhale quietly. I try not to care about him being weird and instead I pick another slice and bring it to my mouth, biting in to it. I shudder, feeling Harry do the same beside me. I also see Liam and Niall having downed their shots as well.

“God, why do we keep doing this?” Harry coughs out, but I can see him mirroring my grin, apparently back to normal. Good.

Then all of us smash our glasses down on the table while shouting out “ANOTHER!” before breaking in to another laughing fit. 

I really, really love being home.

***

_Sunday_

_November 8th_

I wake up with a stale taste in my mouth, feeling like someone stuffed it with cotton balls. I hate tequila. Without opening my eyes I start fumbling for the water glass I’m almost positive I put on the table before crashing and passing out on Niall and Liam’s sofa, apparently not having made it back to Harry’s. I find the glass and down it all at once, making the taste in my mouth worse but at least making the cotton feeling disappear. With the hasty drinking of water comes the feeling of a thousand snakes in my stomach though. I really hate tequila. I try sitting up, only then realising there’s something holding me back and I look down to my stomach to see a big hand resting on it, attached to it is a tattooed arm that’s halfway round my waist. Oh. I attempt getting up again, but the arm just tightens its hold on me, making the snakes turn into fluttery butterflies and _god help me_ , how am I getting hard when I feel like vomiting?

“Ungh, Harry, let me go,” I rasp then, panicking, reaching down to take his hand off of me. Harry shifts and grunts and doesn’t really move, but at least he removes his arm so I can get up.

I stumble towards the bathroom, falling down on my knees and just barely getting the lid off the toilet in time, retching up all of last night. I really fucking hate tequila. But throwing up almost always makes me feel better; well, at least it enables me standing up straight for a while, so I seize the opportunity and take a shower, ignoring my confusing morning wood.

However, being able to stand up doesn’t last very long and I end up sitting in the tub with my arms wrapped around my knees, rocking back and forth, willing my body not to throw up in the shower. It sort of works, I don’t throw up again and I can finish washing my hair and scrubbing my by now even scruffier face before getting out. As I stand there, dripping wet, I realise I didn’t bring neither towel nor a change of clothes in with me. And fuck, did I even bring my bag back to Niall and Liam’s place? I didn’t leave it at the bar, did I? Ungh. I muster up the strength to shuffle out into the living room, where I thankfully find my bag. As I bend down to pick it up, I hear Harry groaning from the sofa, and I look up just in time to see him pull a pillow over his face, and I realise I’m not wearing anything. At all. Oops. Well, it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. 

I manage to walk back to the bathroom before gravity takes its toll and I slump down on the edge of the tub again, cradling my head in my hands, groaning. I feel like shit. I’m not sure how long I stay in there, but my hair is more dry than wet when I finally emerge, sporting a pair of grey joggers and an old bandtee.

I shuffle out to the kitchen in search for something to drink that isn’t water, finding a carton of orange juice in the fridge. “Jackpot,” I mumble, reaching behind the eggs to take out the juice. 

I make to shut the fridge but I hesitate, glancing at the carton of eggs, maybe some scrambled eggs would be nice. But then my stomach grumbles again and I think better of it, shutting the fridge. I take the cap off the juice and start drinking from the carton, slowly making my way back to the living room, Harry now apparently back to sleep. By the sound of it, or maybe lack thereof, so are Niall and Liam. I stand next to the sofa, looking down at Harry’s sleeping form. His long hair’s a mess, dark curls spilling everywhere and he has replaced the pillow he threw on his face with his left arm, just barely covering his eyes as if the light is bothering him. Actually, it’s bothering me as well, so I shuffle over to the window, closing the blinds and leaving the winter sun outside. I keep staring at Harry, something unfamiliar moving inside of me as my eyes follow the lines of one of the swallow tattoos on his chest. I shake my head, trying to get rid of that feeling. Enough of this.

“Hazza, make room” I say while bending down to lift his long legs off the sofa to make space. He grunts and pulls on the blanket covering him.

“Whass’it?” He mumbles and rubs his face with his hand, glancing up at me with bloodshot eyes.

“I said, make room, it’s fucking freezing in this fucking flat.” I shiver as I realise how cold I actually am. 

“Is that juice?” He says then, looking longingly at the carton in my hand while struggling to sit up a bit more. I hold out the box to him and get under the blanket at his feet. He takes a few long gulps before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, peering at me.

“What?” I ask, curling up to a ball at the end of the sofa, still shivering despite the blanket.

“You showered” he states while looking at my hair lying flat on my head, my fringe almost covering my eyes.

“Yes, quite the observation skills there, Styles,” I say sarcastically while trying to get the blanket to stay up around me. He ignores me, taking another swig from the juice. 

I can’t seem to stop shivering, but at the same time I’m sweating. “Ungh, I really fucking hate tequila. And _why_ is it so fucking cold in here?” I mutter while trying to get comfortable by leaning my side against the backrest, closing my eyes. I feel Harry shift so I open my eyes to see him put the juice away on the table.

“Come here,” he mumbles, holding his arms open as he leans back down. I squint at him, not sure why I’m hesitating, 

“What, since when are you opposed cuddling?” he asks while lifting an eyebrow at me. 

“I’m not...” I protest weakly then, giving up the unsettling internal struggle that’s raging in my head. Instead I crawl up the sofa, collapsing in Harry’s arms. He immediately covers me with the blankets and puts his huge feet outside of my smaller ones, caging them in.

“Oh god, that’s amazing, you’re like a fucking space heater” I groan into his chest, feeling my feet starting to warm up almost at once. Harry chuckles. 

“You smell nice,” I mumble. Because he does. Something floral and deep, so Harry. He smells like home. A small whimpering sound escapes him but he says nothing. Hm. I can’t be bothered to care, because it’s warm now and I’m suddenly really tired again.

“I’m going to fall asleep,” I yawn, and Harry makes another sound, this time an affirmative one. Starting to drift of, I feel his face against the back of my head and it feels like he’s breathing me in, but I try not to pay attention to it because I’m falling asleep, finally content.

When I wake up again there’s no Harry at my side but there’s a faint smell of pizza. I groan, feeling my stomach grumble in a hungry more than hungover way, as opposed to earlier. Sitting up I run my fingers through my hair, messing it up even more before getting up to make my way to the kitchen, following that delicious smell of grease.

“Uuuuh, look who’s up, it’s the Tequila Prince!” Niall chirps from his spot sitting at the kitchen counter, an obnoxious smile on his face. He looks unaffected of course, being a stupid Irish bastard and therefor seemingly impervious to hangovers.

“Fuck off, Irish,” I say cheerfully, making my way over to the open pizza-box on the kitchen table, grabbing a slice and taking a huge bite. “I take it back, you can stay.” I groan, catching a string of melted cheese from falling out of my mouth.“This is perfection.”

“I know, right? What did we even eat before onlinepizza?” he says around a mouthful. 

“Scrambled eggs,” I say, munching away while he nods his head. “But pizza’s much better!”

“Hells yes!” He says, taking what I’m assuming is his fifth slice from the box and shoving half of it in his mouth at once.

“Where’re the lads?” I ask, taking the can of coke standing on the counter, opening it with one hand, the other reaching for another slice of pizza. I’m impressed by my ability to do two things at the same time in the state that I’m in.

“Liam’s at work, he left like six hours ago, and Harry’s taking a shower or something,” he says, waving his hand around at the ‘something’.

“Or something?” I laugh before realising what he said. “Wait, what? Liam’s at work? Is that even legal? He’s a fucking ER nurse! Wasn’t he as plastered as the rest of us yesterday?” I exclaim.

“Actually, he just took that first shot of tequila and that one pint,” he says. “How do you think we all made it home without him keeping us in line? Much less dragging your fucking duffel bag all over town,” he grins.

“Uh, didn’t really think about that,” I shrug. “But I’m grateful for him remembering my bag, though.” 

Thinking about it now, I can’t even remember how or when we actually did get home. I just remember Harry being quiet and then strange and then happy, and also holding Harry’s warm hand while walking, Harry laughing at one of my stupid jokes, and blowing smoke into Harry’s annoyed face. Huh. There was a lot of Harry. 

“So, what is the ‘or something’ that Harry might be doing in the bathroom?” I say, ignoring that weird feeling again, instead taking a huge gulp of coke. Niall just snickers but says nothing.

“What am I missing?” I frown but Niall ignores me. I’m about to protest the silent treatment as Harry emerges in the kitchen, looking minty fresh with his wet curls hanging around his face. Niall’s snickering stops abruptly, and while making a strange choking noise he just looks down at his half-eaten pizza.

“What?!” I ask again, looking from Harry, who looks slightly dazed, to Niall who is now suddenly giggling. He’s giggling? What is happening?

Harry frowns and purses his lips. But then he starts giggling as well, and I just stare at them.

“You’re fucking bonkers, the both of you,” I finally say, finishing my coke before exiting the kitchen, taking another slice with me.

“Bloody idiots…” I mutter as I resume my place under the blankets, hearing them still cackling in the kitchen. “Bloody idiots!” I repeat, only louder this time. This just increases the volume of their hysterical fit. I am definitely missing something, but I’m too tired to delve into it now so I just reach for the remote instead, turning on the telly before finishing my slice of pizza. Harry and Niall eventually join me, and we settle in to watch the third Iron Man-movie for the umpteenth time.

***

_Tuesday_

_November 10th_

Why did it have to start snowing when I’m hauling my duffel across town? It usually takes me about 20 minutes from King’s Cross, but 45 minutes later I slam the door to my tiny flat in Bloomsbury, soaking wet and bloody exhausted. I drop my keys to the floor, bending to untie the laces of my docs just enough so that I can kick them off my feet. I struggle out of my jacket while simultaneously trying to unwrap my scarf, probably making the task take longer. 

I’m trying really hard not to start crying when I overlook my sad and empty flat, the sad Ed Sheeran-song in my headphones probably not helping. The feeling of loneliness is always more prominent when I get back from Doncaster and my friends, but I know it will subside after a few days, school keeping me busy, and I actually do have other friends here in London, but still. Harry, Liam and Niall are just… they’re my family. It’s just the being alone-part that’s bothering me these days. When it’s too quiet the thoughts of Zayn comes creeping back, and I think about how completely we fucked things up for us. More than anything I miss his friendship. I think we were always better as friends than lovers, but still. Niall says I’ll get over it eventually, it’s only been a few weeks, really. Maybe it’s time I shag someone else. I don’t know. The thought of Niall reminds me - when he drove me to the train I promised I’d text him when I got home, so I pull my phone out and type out a quick message to him.

When I’m done I throw the phone on the sofa while passing it on my way to the small excuse of a kitchen, realising too late that it’s still connected to my headphones that are hanging around my neck, making the phone’s trajectory halt abruptly and the cord pulls out of it, causing the phone to crash to the floor. “Happy days…” I mutter, throwing the headphones off and crouching to pick up the phone. Not broken, thank fuck, just a scuffed corner that I’m pretty sure was already chipped. “I’m so sorry” I whisper to it and kiss the corner, clutching it to my chest as it vibrates with a response from Niall.

[Niall Horan] **20.37**  
_ok good!_  


[Niall Horan] **20.37**  
_miss u already!_  


I type out a reply, saying I miss him too and I go to put the kettle on. I keep imagining that I will hear the lock turn and have Zayn waltzing back in here as if nothing’s happened. 

***

_Wednesday_

_November 11th_

Later, much later, _after midnight_ -later, I’m curled up in the corner of my small sofa in my joggers and a cup of tea clutched in my hand.

Maybe I’m getting used to being on my own. At least a little bit. I realise this as I take a sip of tea - I don’t boil water for two cups anymore. And I can eat a lot of meat again. Like, _a lot_ a lot. And I think about the fact that he absolutely loathes my taste in music. Or that he hates _Grease_. What kind of a person hates _Grease_? 

I struggle to hold on to these things, how completely unmatched we were at everything. These things usually slip away from me when I’m feeling like this. Feeling like it was entirely my fault. I should’ve been more attentive, I shouldn’t have spent so much time on my phone talking to Harry, or Niall, or Liam for that matter, instead of talking to him. Feeling like I should’ve tried harder. I’m about to start crying again when my phone starts ringing on the table in front of the sofa, startling me. I reach for it, the screen showing a picture of drunk Harry from when we were at Leeds festival last summer. I take a deep breath before answering.

“Haz, you do realise that it is, in fact, the middle of the night?” I say in the most cheerful tone I can muster.

“What’s wrong?” He says slowly, the words dripping with concern. So much for ‘cheerful’.

“Nothing?” I say it like a question and I cringe. That won’t convince anyone. 

“Oh, you’re asking me? Then I’d say that you’re sitting in your dark flat, thinking about how Zayn and you not working out was entirely your fault,” he says in his annoying, know it all voice.

“Ungh, that’s just fucking bizarre, how do you do that?” I groan.

“Call it my Harry-tuition,” he says cheerfully. I roll my eyes. 

“It’s one in the morning, Hazza, what do you want?”

“How rude,” he says and I can hear him pouting.

“ _I’m_ being rude?” I laugh. “You’re the one who called _me_! I could’ve been sleeping!” I exclaim, pausing for a bit. “What is it, Harry?” I ask again around a yawn.

“I was just…” He trails off. I wait a few beats.

“You’re stalling, Styles.”

He says nothing.

“I can hear you breathing so I know you’re still there. What’s the matter?” 

He’s still not speaking, which kind of makes me worrying for real. “Harry? You’re starting to weird me out.” He sighs a little but nothing else. I sit up and put my feet down on the floor, not even noticing how cold it is against my bare feet.

“Seriously, what’s wrong? Just out with it” I get up and start pacing a bit. I can hear him breathing but he’s still quiet, but wait, was that..? 

“Are you _snoring_? You’re sleeping,” I exhale in relief. “HARRY STYLES!” I yell into the phone, getting a startled “Whaaaaaa, whass’it?” on the other end. He fucking fell asleep.

“ _Jesus,_ you scared the shit out of me! I thought you were gonna tell me you were dying or something” I scold.

“Did I fall asleep?” He mumbles, and continues with “Sorry, I’m a wee bit drunk, you see.” Fittingly enough, he hiccups. The fuck?

“You’re drunk?” I ask, a bit disbelievingly. Getting pissed in the middle of the week is more up my ally than his. He’s a teacher for Christ’s sake.

“So sorry I woke you, I’m going to sleep now, my beautiful little hedgehog,” he yawns on the other end and just like that - he’s gone. I stare at the phone, mouthing ‘beautiful little hedgehog?’ Harry is a strange drunk. Good thing is - he got me off the sofa so I turn off the telly and crash onto the bed at the other side of the room, falling asleep almost instantly. 

***

_Saturday_

_November 21st_

I’m sitting on the train back to Doncaster, thinking that I really shouldn’t be going home this often; it’s not really kind on my money situation. But I can’t help it, I need to get out of my flat, and all it took was a message from Niall saying they were going to do a pub crawl tonight with a few of Liam’s colleagues. And apparently, one of them is a nice and pretty homosexual boy with a ring in his nose and an inclination towards getting plastered on lager and engaging in anonymous sex. I have no idea what that has to do with me. Or do I? Hm. Either way, I’m on the train, tired as hell after a long lecture on children’s psychological development that didn’t end until very late last night, causing me to not being able to fall asleep until early morning. I supress a yawn as I send out a message to the group chat that I’m fifteen minutes away from the station. Liam replies that he’s just ended his day shift so he’s going to pick me up with the car. Brilliant

“So, drop you off at Harry’s and then you guys will join up?” Liam asks as soon as he’s out on road.

“Yeah, that would be great, thanks so much for picking me up, Li.”

“No problem, it’s on my way anyways,” he smiles, eyes still on the road.

“So, how was work?” I ask then, fiddling with the radio until I’m satisfied with the station.

“Chaotic, as usual, we’re really in need of this pub crawl tonight.”

“Still understaffed?”

“Yeap, but I’m beginning to think that ‘understaffed’ is more of an under _statement_! We’re supposed to be 11 nurses, 5 doctors and 15 orderlies, but we have 7 nurses, 2 doctors and 10 orderlies. It’s bloody insane,” he sighs.

“Well then,” I rub my hands together. “Let’s get the lot of you shitfaced tonight and you can forget all about your shitty job for one evening!” I say happily.

“Cheers!” Liam yells and honks the horn of the car, the both of us laughing the rest of the way to Harry’s flat while chatting about nothing at all. 

***

We’ve reached our last stop on the pub crawl, _History_ , of course, and I’m sloshed. I’m sitting so close to Olly that I’m almost in his lap, giggling at something he said, his hand resting on my knee. Turns out Niall and Liam were playing matchmakers with the telling me about Olly and then making sure we got seated together at every place we’ve been tonight. I giggle again as I think about how it appears that it is, in fact, working. Olly looks at me, crinkles by his eyes and I want to pull on his nose ring. I refrain, though.

“I didn’t think nurses were allowed nose rings,” I tell him while looking at the piece of jewellery hanging from his septum. “It’s really pretty, with the sparkling jems.” He laughs and pulls a little on it himself.

“We’re not supposed to have like, really big piercings that can get in the way or piercings that are infected and can spread germs, obviously,” he explains.

“But what if a patient tries to pull it out in a… I don’t know, a rage fit or something?” I ask, still looking at his piercing, going a little cross-eyed. “I mean, wouldn’t that mean it was ‘in the way’, sort of?”

“That could happen, but you wanna know a secret?” he says and leans in, whispering conspiratorially and I nod eagerly, smiling. “I usually have an open ring while at work and I just fold it up in my nose.” I stare at him with big eyes before bursting out in laughter.

“Are you serious!?” I choke out and then he joins me in my hysterical laughter. He folds over and leans his head down towards my lap, earning a smug look from Niall which I ignore. I am also ignoring Harry, sitting in the corner of the booth with his arms crossed and an annoyed look on his face. He’s been sulking all night, but I am too enamoured by Olly to have him explain. He’ll tell me if it’s something I can do, I’m sure.

“Louis?” I suddenly hear from behind me, a voice that is so familiar but still so foreign to me, making me sober up instantly. I see how Niall is looking at something, some _one_ , behind me, slightly confused but most of all, shocked. I realise I’m standing up. When did I get up? I swallow hard before turning around.

And there he is and fuck, my memory has not done him justice _at all_. He’s breathtaking, his hair longer than it ever was, grazing his shoulders now. He has a light scruff covering his jaw. He never used to have a beard. And he’s just standing there, a small but genuinely happy smile on his face. I zero in on his mouth and suddenly I’m very aware of my own mouth and the fact that I haven’t spoken yet, so I clear my throat and shake my head a little, trying to seem unfazed. Not succeeding, I’m guessing.

“Doug.” I say, and my voice is failing me completely. Fuck. I feel the blush creep up my neck towards my face. Why did I decide to shave today of all days?

I try again. “Dougie, hi, hello,” my voice still a little high pitched but better, and he smiles bigger, clearly noticing my embarrassment.

“All right, Lou?” He says on a small chuckle, making my eyes drift towards his mouth again.

“I am sloshed” I tell him, groaning inwardly, _smooth_ , Tomlinson, really smooth. But he laughs.

“I can see that,” he grins. “And you have a new tattoo? When did that happen?” He asks, looking down at my chest, and I follow his eyes to where my scooped jumper has exposed most of the inked words there. I put my hand over my chest, feeling my heart hammering away. Is it as loud as it feels?

“Uh, not sure?” I stutter. “Like, a few years back… you like it?” Ungh, why did I ask that? I don’t fucking care if he likes it! I cringe at myself.

“I do,” he smiles warmly and proceeds to give me a deliberate once over. I try not to fidget or pull my jumper back up to cover the tattoo. “I wasn’t aware that you moved back? How are you? God, it’s been, what, three, four years?” he continues.

“I haven’t. Moved back, that is. Just visiting,” I say and motion towards the lads, Liam looking completely bewildered, Niall looking alarmed and Harry… Harry looks absolutely lethal. I nearly take a step back seeing the look on his face. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him looking this furious. At least the vaguely annoyed look he’s been sporting all night is gone now. Small favours, eh? Dougie follows my movement and stiffens a little when he sees the look on Harry’s face.. I would run for the fucking hills if I saw Harry looking at me like that. I gulp, ignoring the lump in my throat. Niall doesn’t look too keen, either.

“Ah, Niall… and Harry. Everything alright?” he asks and tries to save face by plastering on a smile. He almost manages to sound genuine.

“Dougie, hello,” Niall says dryly. Harry says nothing, his lips a thin line.

“And I’m Liam, ‘sup?” Liam says, thrusting out his hand towards Dougie, the fake “bro-ness” of it all dripping from his entire being. Wow. 

“This is awkward as all hell, innit?” Niall says cheerfully as Dougie shakes Liam’s hand hesitantly while introducing himself. I cough into my fist.

“Well, it was ace seeing you Louis, how long are you here for? It’d be great to catch up,” he drawls, and I feel like I’m dreaming. Or having a nightmare. I haven’t decided yet.

“Ace!” I repeat stupidly before coughing into my fist again. “Yes, great, absolutely, would love to, really, cheers.” I’m rambling. “I feel like I’m rambling, am I rambling?” I ask no one in particular. Why am I drunk now? Doug chuckles. Fuck my life, honestly.

“You’re rambling, yes, but just a tad,” Doug answers “Uhm, anyway, you could text me?”

Well, shit. “Oh, I, uh...”

“So you not only unfriended me on Facebook, you deleted my number as well? I see,” he says, seemingly unbothered. “I’ll just befriend you again, then, shall I?” he asks happily.

“Uhm, yes, you do that,” I say and exhale, smiling at him. He takes a step toward me and as if on instinct I move towards him at the same time. He wraps his arms around me and I do the same to him, it’s short but intense. He smells fantastic. Bleugh. And then with one last squeeze to my arm, he’s gone. I stay there for a while, just standing there, before hearing someone clear their throat. I turn around to see Olly putting on his coat before turning around to face me. Huh. I’d forgotten he existed, let alone that he was here. Shit.

“I guess this means I’m done for the night,” he says and he leans in to give me a small peck on the cheek. “It was really nice meeting you Lou, I had a great night.” He, too, squeezes my arm a little before walking past me. “Liam, see you at work on Monday, thanks for this, we needed it!” he says and waves half-heartedly. Then he’s gone as well and I have managed to say absolutely nothing to stop him. Grand. 

“What the hell just happened?” Liam demands as I sit back down, staring at my half empty pint.

“That, Li, was the one that got away,” Niall explains to him while squinting at me. “And good fucking riddance, it was,” he adds.

“Heeey,” I protest weakly. 

I hear someone make a pained sound and I look up to meet a pair of green, anguished eyes. I feel my stomach roil when I see the look on Harry’s face.

“I’m gonna be sick,” I croak and before I know what’s happening, I’m gently being lifted out of my seat and am stumbling out into the freezing night air with Harry supporting me. We barely make it to the other side of the road before I’m throwing up the entire liquid content of my stomach. It’s a miracle that I don’t get any sick on my shoes.

“Take me home, Harry,” I plead as I pull myself up to a standing.

“’Course, I’ll just go back inside and get our stuff.” He mumbles in my ear, making gosebumps erupt all over my skin.

“Hurry,” I whine while sinking down on the bench outside the bar. 

Harry is back in no time and he pulls me up towards him, keeping me close to his side as we make our way up to the main street to take a taxi home.

***

_Sunday_

_November 22nd_

Well, he certainly didn’t waste time. Dougie sent a friend request as soon as he left History last night, and we’ve been texting since noon when I woke up feeling like shit. 

It’s just so typical, I’m doing my best to move on from Zayn and now the guy Zayn helped me get over shows up, ruining my chances to get a healthy rebound shag with uhm….what was his name? Fuck, I’m a horrible person. Was it Oliwer? No, that doesn’t feel right. I swallow the guilt down, it wasn’t like I was betrothed to him, right?

I’ve felt Harry’s annoyed looks burn into me while I’ve been typing with Dougie, but I’ve ignored him up to this moment. He’s currently making a lot of noise in the kitchen, and my head throbs.

“Harry! Can you not do that, please?” I shout, burrowing further in under the blanket covering me. He doesn’t answer and I throw the blanket over my head as well. There’s a sudden banging on the door, and I can hear Harry shuffle out to open it, the noise finally stopping.

I peek up from under the blanket, now looking at Niall standing at the edge of the sofa, looking down at me with a disappointed look on his face.

“What are you doing here?” I ask warily.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asks, pointing to the phone still in my hand.

“What is?” I ask again, confused, but then it dawns on me. “Harry ratted me out, huh?”

That’s when Harry decides to show up in the entryway between the kitchen and the living room, looking torn up as my phone chimes with another message. Something dark passes over his features, and Niall sighs, flopping down on the sofa at my feet just as Liam enters the living room as well. I put the phone away on the table without looking at it.

“Oh, hi Liam, didn’t hear you come in” I say cheerfully as he sits down on the chair, Harry still standing in the doorway.

“So, are you just gonna let him back in your life, just like that?” Harry asks, looking at the phone and not at me. 

“What? No! I’m not.. I wasn’t… we’re seriously just talking, it’s nothing?” 

Niall and Harry look at each other, but they both remain quiet. 

“Come on! I’m not who I was back then, I can handle myself,” I continue, frustrated now.

“I believe you, mate,” Liam pipes up from the chair.

Niall sighs but ignores him. “It’s just that considering what happened last time, you can’t really blame us for being…” 

“Overprotective cunts?” I finish for him.

“I was gonna say cautious, but alright, overprotective cunts fits,” Niall placates, shrugging.

“What? No! We’re not cunts for being worried out of our bloody minds!” Harry interjects, giving Niall a disapproving glare before finally turning to look at me, and there’s that anguish in his eyes again. My insides twist at how it’s my fault he’s looking like that. Suddenly he’s sniffling and I just can’t have that.

“Fuck. Harry, please, don’t, I’m not…” I start, getting up and hurrying over to him and even though I’m quite smaller than him I wrap him up in my arms. I can feel him shaking as he tries to catch his breath. Suddenly Niall flings himself off the sofa as well, throwing himself at us, all three of us now creating some sort of emotional pillar in Harry’s kitchen.

“Can someone _please_ explain to me what the fuck is happening?” Liam says after a while, now standing at the foot of the sofa. I do an internal double take, I keep forgetting that Liam just started being a part of this group like a year ago when he moved into Niall’s spare room. I sniffle and back up a few paces, holding out my arm.

“Get in here LiLi” I tell him and the other two make room for him as well. Now we’re just standing there like idiots, hugging. We break it up after a while and head out into the kitchen.

“I’ve gathered that the two of you- ” Liam says while motioning between Niall and Harry as each of us take a seat around the kitchen table. “- do not like this Doug bloke we ran into last night?” he says with eyebrows raised in question. When no one speaks he continues. “Okay, so you fucking loathe him, but Louis here used to like, not loathe him, am I right?” he turns to me.

“Right,” I mumble.

“Is he… that guy who completely broke your heart a few years back?” He looks at me with his brows furrowed. Right, Liam knows some of it - he joined in right after I got myself… back together. With a lot of help from Zayn. Wait, when did me and Zayn make it official? Was Liam around before that? No, wait….

Niall makes an impatient sound that snaps me right back to reality.

“Right,” I say again and Niall snorts. Liam turns to look at him with one eyebrow raised.

“Something to say?” Liam asks him.

“Nope,” Niall says, shaking his head while still managing to give me an imploring glare. Impressive.

“Somebody better start talking or I’ll-” Liam starts, his voice getting that annoying fatherly touch.

“Alright, alright,” I stop him. “Just don’t do that grown up, bossy voice of yours and I’ll start talking,” I say around a sigh. Here we go then. “I met Dougie, or rather, _we_ met Dougie at this free entry music festival, like, around 2009, was it?” I ask in Niall and Harry’s general direction, while avoiding their gazes and I get an agreeing grunt from Niall. Harry still not speaking, but from the corner of my eye I see him crossing his arms. 

“Anyway, we met and that was it, I mean, he was just, _there_ , you know?” I say, and I know I’m not making any sense but that’s how I feel. 

“He totally made you into a giant twat, Lou,” Niall says before turning to Liam. "Louis was so enamoured by him, be glad you weren’t around because he was obnoxious. Even more so than usual.” There’s some sort of sad half smirk on his face.

“Hey,” I interject. “Not fair, man!” 

Niall pays me no attention.

“Anyway, so they were inseparable. We saw less and less of Louis, and the few times we actually got to see him he would be this shell of himself, smoking and being generally antsy, going on and on about Doug. If not to rant about how angry he made him, then about how awesome and cool and sexy he was.” Niall is interrupted by Harry snorting and I look at him then, his taut frame and furrowed brows doing nothing to ease my mind about this whole thing.

“Doug was this holier-than-thou ‘I’m so much better than you’-arsehole kind of guy.” Niall continues, while I make a vague protesting sound. To no avail, Niall is kind of right.

“And it was annoying, sure, but we had to be supportive ‘cause Louis loved him and it was his first real relationship…. If you can call it that,” Niall says on a shrug and looks at me a little apologetically. I answer him with a shrug of my own and motion for him to continue. Whatever, get it over with, really.

“Either way, when Doug moved away to London for work it became much worse. With time, his visits became fewer and fewer and when he actually was home all he would talk about was London. How cool his friends were, how fantastic his job was, all the hot lads he met…. the implication being that we were uncool and Louis was, you now, not as hot as the London bloke and not really his boyfriend,” Niall stops and turns to Louis. “You didn’t really handle that well.” 

I shake my head. No, I did not. They’re all looking at me now. Oh, right.

“I felt like I didn’t matter anymore, nothing I did was as good enough, cool enough,” I start, not sure how to continue. “I felt like I had nothing to offer him anymore. Which, I guess, I really didn’t, I mean… what would that have been?” I say and feel the shame from back then prickling at my neck.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Harry whispers from beside me, finally looking at me. He’s not angry anymore, just sincere. I quirk the corner of my mouth up a bit and he mirrors it, making his dimple pop out slightly. It immediately makes me feel better. 

“Finally Dougie just broke it off. Just said ‘bye’ and left. Didn’t come back. I guess he’s back now, though…” I frown down at my fingernails, angrily flicking a dried up cuticle piece on my thumb with my index finger. 

“Good fucking riddance,” Niall mumbles, repeating the sentiment of last night.

“This all sounds really sad and all, but it doesn’t add up with all the pent up emotions in here. Why are you like… worried?” He frowns. “What really went down here?” he asks tentatively but demanding. A combination only Liam knows how to pull off.

I look up from my now bleeding thumb nail, meeting the gloomy stares of my two best friends. I sigh.

“So I’ve always been a little bit of a fuck up, haven’t I?” My statement is met with two eye-rolls and a disgruntled snort from Harry. “So, during the slow process of him pulling away and me not ‘handling it well’, I started getting migraines, right, probably because of stress, or me not sleeping, or, I don’t know, something…. and so I went to the clinic and this doctor prescribed me some pills for it. Sleeping that is, not migraine. Or like, it was more an antianxiety drug, since it was the anxiety keeping me up, I think. And as the fuck up that we have established that I am, I would like… take two sometimes, instead of one.” I swallow, feeling my stomach roil at my own stupidity. But I’ve started ripping the band aid, no reason to stop now. “It made all the edges less sharp, you know? It was to just to soften the anxiety,” I say and my forced casual tone has Harry sitting up straighter in his chair, Niall sighing at the pending outburst. My thumb is really bleeding now.

“The edges less sharp… you were such an idiot!” Harry exclaims loudly and I jump even though I was sort of expecting it.

“I know! But like-” I start but Harry interrupts me.

“Don’t try to downplay it, Lou!”

“Wait, what kind of pills are we talking here?” Liam asks then and I can hear his voice slipping in to nurse-mode.

“Temazepam,” Harry spits out and his knee has started to thump with an uneven rhythm against the underside of the table.

“Are you serious?” Liam asks disbelievingly.

“Really fucking serious,” Harry says, crossing his arms. I can hear the hurt and anger in his voice and I feel them all looking at me. I keep looking at my bleeding thumb, wishing my shame would just swallow me and be done with it.

“You took Temazepam as a sleeping aid? Lou, those are really addictive,” Liam says, looking at me with huge eyes.

“Well, I know that _now_ ,” I tell him. “But I didn’t really get addicted, though. That one time when…” I start, noticing Harry tense up beside me again, but I plow on. “That time was just an accident, alright?” I say, and I dare a glance at my friends and Harry is biting his bottom lip and Niall just looks sad.

“That one time, you say, was like, the scariest fucking thing ever,” Niall says and I bring my bleeding thumb up to my mouth, biting around the tip to both numb the area and make it hurt more. I want to disappear.

“It was….it was the single most horrifying moment of my life,” Harry whispers. I look up at him and he’s on the brink of tears again. Fuck. “The way you… you didn’t come to the door, and I… I had a key, you know? And then the other door, it was locked, like…” He’s not making much sense but I know what he’s talking about anyway. 

“Harry….” I whisper, leaning over, taking his hand and squeezing it. He swallows but he doesn’t look at me.

“When I found you on the floor of the bathroom, _fuck_ , do you have _any idea_ how fucking terrifying that was?” He sounds so pained and I feel so humiliated at myself. Hating myself for making him feel like this. For being so stupid. 

“I… I’m sorry,” I gasp out, clutching my arms around myself, a sob rips through my body and I completely lose it. “I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t… I didn’t…” I gasp for air, and I feel Harry’s arms circle around me and suddenly I’m against his chest, sobbing uncontrollably into his shirt as he whispers comforting things in my ear in his slow, melodic voice, lips against my hair. I’m not sure how long we stay like that, but I feel more than hear how Niall and Liam leave us in there.

***

_Monday_

_November 23rd_

It feels like my life consists of sitting on trains and obsessively listening to Ed Sheeran these days. Harry drove me to the train station this morning before work, and it was… awkward, to say the least. We spent the night apologizing to each other and crying some more, me promising I wouldn’t start that shit up again. I can’t remember falling asleep but I woke up in Harry’s bed, his hair in my mouth and a fuzzy feeling in my stomach from feeling Harry’s heart under my palm, where it rested on his naked chest. 

The blush comes creeping up my neck when I remember how I’d been hard, pressed up against Harry’s back, groin against his arse. I gulp, shaking my head to disperse my thoughts.

Instead I try to focus on something else, but I just end up shuddering as I remember waking up in the hospital all those years ago. No thank you, I’m not doing that again. Harry mustn’t worry about me taking another sleeping pill for the rest of my life. 

I lean my head back, biting my lip as I contemplate writing to Dougie again. I’m not 20 anymore, I can handle myself and I know who I am, I do. Neither am I arse-over-tits in love with him this time. And it seems like he’s changed, I think. Or maybe not, I don’t know. He just looked so _good_ , and maybe if I… just to get the last bit of Zayn out of my system? My conscience is not really letting me type out the letters though. I read his last message again, for the umpteenth time, _have you decided you’re cross with me again, then?_ and to hell with it. I type out a response and suppress the guilty feeling in the pit of my stomach as the train slows down for King’s Cross.

***

_Friday_

__  


_November 27th_

  
So it turns out that Dougie still has a flat in London. His lease still has a few more months to it and he works here part time. He’s also working half time back in Doncaster, at a youth centre, which is very unexpected. I can’t ever remember him talking about wanting to work with kids. Or kids at all, to be honest. But he’s here. In London. He’s here sometimes. And I shouldn’t get worked up over it, I know that, my guilty mind tells me that every damn time my phone vibrates with a message from him. And now he wants to meet up.

[Dougie Poynter] **12.43:**

  
you free tonight? You should come over, I have a box of wine at the ready ;).  


I read the message for a third time, thinking about a reply and if I should really be answering yes. Instead I read the message again, and again, frustrated.

“What’s the big deal?” I mutter at my phone. It would just be sex.

“Is there a problem, Mr Tomlinson?” I hear Professor Morse call out from the front of the lecture hall as the people in the rows start turning around to look at me. Shit.

“Oh, uhrm, no, carry on, Professor” I say, feeling my cheeks burn as she casts me a last, disapproving look before continuing on with the lecture. I hear Bebe cough to hide a chuckle beside me.

“Oh shut up,” I tell her, but smirk none the less. I pocket the phone and start paying attention to the rest of the life-span perspective lecture. Dougie will have to wait.

Bebe offers me a cigarette as we descend the stairs to the entrance lobby after Professor Morse sent us on our merry way, and I accept it with a small grin. She snorts and hands me another and I take it with a mumbled thanks, pocketing it for later. This earns me another amused scoff.

“Thought you said you’d quit?” she asks, already having put the cigarette in her mouth before even reaching the doors.

“I have. Sort of. I don’t have my own. That’s something, innit?” I tell her, holding the door open before following her out into the frigid December air.

“’course it is! Not benefiting my poor excuse of an income, though,” she says, her thick Irish accent more pronounced when she’s trying to be funny.

“It is!” I exclaim. “And I’ll buy you a new pack, jeez, stingy,” I say while trying to light up, my fingers having gone stiff already.

“Relax, I’m just taking the piss,” she says and gives me grin. “So it’s still that bloke on your mind then?” she asks while peering at me curiously

.

“It is,” I repeat. “Trying to convince myself it’s a good idea to see him.” 

“Why do you need convincing? You need to get proper laid and you’ve already told me you two used to be really good at the hanky panky, so go for it!” she says around the cigarette.

“The hanky panky? Who even talks like that?” I laugh, mumbling “bloody irish” under my breath. “And it’s not that simple.”

“You’re not gonna marry the bloke, are ya?” 

“Well, no?” I snort.

“But you’re attracted to ‘im?” she presses on. 

“Well, yes?” I say. Of course I am, how can I not be?

“Then I can’t see the problem here, mate, just go for it,” she says before taking a deep drag. “Besides, if that picture you showed me was anything to go by, he looks exactly like that other friend of yours, Harry? And he is hoooooooot,” she sings. I wrinkle my nose, because what? 

“You think Dougie looks like Harry? You think Harry is _hot_?” I ask, bewildered.

“Uh, yeah? Don’t you? I mean, I know you do, I’ve seen you look at him,” she says and winks

.

“You’ve seen me look at who? Dougie?” I’m beyond confused now.

“What? No, you idiot, Harry! You always light up when he’s around. And my god, I remember that one party, you know, the one you had on your birthday last year? You were practically fucking on the makeshift dance floor in your flat!” She smirks.

“What party?” I feel completely perplexed now. This seems to be funny to her because she starts laughing.

“Oh my god, you know what? Never mind love,” she says then, patting me on the cheek. 

She lifts her foot up and stubs out her cigarette against the underside of one of her heavy boots before flicking it into a cigarette disposal. I shrug and we hug goodbye before walking away in opposite directions with promises of being in touch during the weekend.

Halfway home I start to really think about what she said. I mean, I guess now with Dougie’s hair being longer and the flimsy shirt…he and Harry do look kind of similar? I don’t know. I have the strangest feeling in the pit of my stomach, but it’s not entirely unpleasant either. I’m not sure what to make of it, though. Trying to ignore it I start to dig out my phone from inside my jacket, deciding to call the only person I can think of to call. 

Keeping my headphones on, I scroll through my call history, pressing down on the last caller with a deep sigh. I put the phone back inside my jacket once I hear the dial-up tone through.

“Hi love,” a tired but happy voice greets me and I smile a little even though my stomach churns. It’s not an entirely unpleasant feeling, to be honest.

“Hi Haz, you sound knackered?” I say, making it a question.

“You’ve no idea, these bloody kids are gonna be the death of me. Christmas hols couldn’t have come at a better time,” he says. I smile at how slow his voice gets when he’s tired. Which is an accomplishment, seeing as he already speaks slow on any normal day.

“That bad, eh? Talk to me babes,” I say, deliberately not making it a question. Delay, delay, delay. I’m not even sure what I want to delay. Maybe the reason for why I called to begin with.

“Is that really why you called, though, to ask me about my day at work?” he inquires and I can hear the smirk in his voice. Well, shit.

“Is that so hard to believe? Am I really that bad of a friend?” I ask indignantly. He chuckles.

“Do you really want me to answer that question?” he says and I can hear him grinning now, stupid wanker.

“Hmpf! I am shocked and appalled! I’m hanging up now.” 

“No, wait! I’m sorry, I’ll be nice, what’s on your mind, love?” he apologizes, still chuckling. Hmpf.

I consider just lying to him since apparently my nerve seems to have struck out, forming a lump in my throat. But right, I’m done with lying. Stupid morals! 

“Uhm, right…” I stall. Why am I feeling so weird about this? 

“Out with it, Lou,” he says and the way he says it is not mean or impatient. Just supportive. Damn it. 

“I’ve been texting Dougie the entire week and he has a flat here in London and he wants to meet tonight, but I’m not sure I should and Beebs made the weirdest comment and I can’t focus on anything and can you please help me,” I rush out, inhaling sharply to get some air back into my body. I hear him doing the same, his sharp intake of air buzzing through the phone.

“What weird comment?” he finally asks after a few beats. 

“I’m not even sure to be honest, something about you and some party and me needing to get laid,” I say, rolling my eyes at how stupid I sound.

“What party? And wait what, what does you needing to get laid have to do with me? I mean, why are you talking about me and you and getting laid?” He laughs again, this nervous little sound he makes when he’s hiding something. Weird.

“Why are you being weird?” I ask him, frowning.

“I’m not being weird! You’re being weird!” he counters.

“Nice comeback, Styles, really,” I snort. “But really though, I think I should go see him, just to see, you know?”

“See what, exactly?” Harry asks, suddenly annoyed.

“I don’t know!” I say, frustration pouring out of me.

“Are you really asking for my permission to fuck your ex boyfriend?”

“Crude,” I mutter, but he pays me no attention, just continues.

“In that case, go right ahead Lou, by all means, don’t let me stop you.” Sarcasm drips from his voice. 

“That wasn’t what…” I start while my steps falter a little just outside my building, not ready to go inside yet. I carefully pull out a lighter and the spare cigarette Saoirse gave me. I put it between my chapped lips and fumble with the lighter, my fingers having gone stiff even though I’ve been wearing mittens like a proper grown-up. 

“Are you smoking right now?” Harry asks on an annoyed huff.

“Yes, I’m entitled to, don’t you think?” I quip, also annoyed now because what’s up his arse? I loudly exhale the smoke from my mouth. This earns me another huff.

“Why are you so stupid?” he mutters on the other side.

“Why are you being such a twat?” I shoot back, flicking the end of my cigarette, glaring at the glowing tip.

“Ugh, stop,” he says, exasperation coloring his voice, which makes _me_ exasperated. I don’t know what to do about it though, so I say nothing. Instead I take a last drag of the fag before flicking it away to the cold ground so I can go inside.

“I don’t know what you’re asking me here, but sure, go see him. I think you can handle it, so go. Have sex, get it out of your system or whatever.” Sourness taints in his words and there’s something else as well, something indiscernible in his voice that I can’t place. _Or don’t want to place._

“Haz-” I’m not sure why my voice has turned this apologetic.

“No, it’s fine, sorry. I’m just so tired, don’t listen to me. I have to go anyway, Niall just walked through the door,” he interrupts. I feel a pang of jealousy as I think of my best friends hanging out without me, but it’s soon replaced with guilt and it pounds through me with every step up the stairs to my flat.

“Oh. Tell him I said hi,” I say, hearing myself sound awfully small of a sudden.

“Will do,” he promises.

“Sorry,” I whisper then, still feeling guilty.

“’s fine, but maybe like… call me later?” he asks, careful and small while I’m pushing the door open and getting inside. I quickly kick my shoes off before leaning against the wall next to the door, coat still on.

“’Course, I’ll call, I promise,” I say, trying to placate, whatever it takes to not have him sounding like that. 

“Love you,” he says, and I don’t know why it’s breaking my heart, standing in my small flat, hearing my best friend telling me he loves me. But it does.

“Bye Haz, love you,” I whisper back, but he’s already hung up.

I stand there for a while before pushing myself off the wall to make my way out to my tiny kitchen. It’s really just a cupboard with a cooker and a small fridge and an even smaller freezer. I fill the kettle with water. Since it takes a while for it to actually boil I figure I might just as well take a shower and I start peeling my clothes off on my way to the bathroom.

***

I don’t know if it’s the fact that I was so drunk when I saw him last, or if it’s because of the talk I had with Harry earlier, but when Dougie opens the door with that stupid, beautiful smile of his I suddenly feel nothing but pain. I feel like someone punched the air out of me. It’s such a physical reaction that I have to lean forward a bit and I almost gasp for air. His smile fades.

“Shit, you okay?” he asks, concern written all over his face as he puts a hand to my shoulder. I shrug it off. 

“No,” I admit and I’m embarrassed over how weak I sound. He looks slightly hurt. I shrug that off, as well. Don’t care.

“I think I should go, this was not a good idea,” I mumble as I make to leave again. 

“Wait, what’s wrong?” He’s following me and again his hand lands on me, in-between my shoulder blades this time. I need to get out of here. He’s too pretty, his hair is too shiny, his jeans too tight. And doesn’t Harry have a shirt just like that? Fuck. I feel the panic rise in my chest.

“Please, Doug, I’m sorry, just let me go, please.” I hate how pleading my voice sounds.

“No. Just wait, look at me,” he says and suddenly I’m facing him. How did he manage that? I look down. Oh, there’s his hand around my wrist. I look up at him again and he looks completely bewildered, concerned and hurt. He never used to be concerned. Is it real? The fact that I still can’t trust his intentions hits me like another punch. This time I can’t do anything, I can’t even look away. Suddenly I taste blood in my mouth.

“Oh, fuck, your nose. Come here.” He’s pulling me back towards his flat and I follow mindlessly. 

“Shit…” I say, tipping my head backwards, pinching the bridge of my nose. I feel the blood drip down my chin and I can taste it running down my throat. Why now? Why a nose bleed?

“So you still get these, huh?” he says and sits me down on the toilet, having led me into his flat and in to the loo. I feel trapped.

“Id would appea’ so,” I tell him, voice garbled with blood and snot. Nice.

He chuckles a little and I close my eyes as he presses what I’m guessing is some cotton under my nose while keeping a hand closed firmly around the back of my neck, tipping my head back. I can’t help the shiver that courses through me. Fuck my life.

“I need do leave,” I try to tell him while struggling to get up, but he just holds my neck a little tighter. I’m not sure I like it.

“Sit your arse down, you think I’ll let you leave like this?” he says and I can tell he’s rolling his eyes even though my own eyes are closed. 

“Don’d ‘oll you’ eyes ad me,” I say, opening my eyes, finding his face inches from mine, a serene but amused smile on his lips.

“What’s that?” he says, suddenly smirking.

“Shud up.” I try to get up again, but he just places one of his knees in my lap, successfully holding me in place. Why is this happening? Fucking fuck my life, honestly.

“Shush you, let me help,” he chastise, curling the fingers holding my neck, scratching lightly over my hairline. I close my eyes for a minute again, trying not to swallow any more blood than necessary while trying to keep my breathing steady. Not an easy job, I tell you. 

When I open my eyes again he’s just about to replace the blood-soaked cotton ball he’s been holding under my nose. His gray eyes land on my blue ones, and we’re quiet after that, his eyes never leaving mine. I feel more trapped than ever.

He removes the cotton a little to see if the flow has started to ebb, it feels like it has. It probably has, because he throws it away and soaks another one with water. He starts dabbing it under my nose and around my mouth, down my chin. I feel mortified but I let him. His knee is still holding me in place, his shin pressing down over my thighs. I swallow hard, ignoring the bloody snot sliming its way down my throat as I’m desperately trying to slow down my heart. I feel like my body is betraying me. He stares at my face and I wonder if he can tell how fast my heart is beating. He removes his knee from me slowly when he sees what is probably a very frantic look on my face. He pulls in a slow, deep breath, his eyes never leaving my face.

“There. All better,” he says, and I might be imagining things because of the loss of blood, but I think he sounds out of breath. 

“Thanks…” I whisper, pulling my hand up to my face, touching my fingers lightly to my nose and under it, feeling for any blood residue. It appears I’m blood-free but I stay put, though.

“Well. You, uh, you can, maybe, go now, if you wanted?” he says, and the always composed Dougie suddenly sounds quite flustered. He starts to clean up in the bathroom with jerky movements and I get up from the toilet, dragging my apparently sweaty palms down the front of my jeans, clearing my throat a little. I take a backwards step out of the bathroom, but the panicked urge to flee has subsided somewhat, so I just stand there, watching him throw away the cotton balls soaked with my blood.

“Or I could… You know, I could, maybe like, stay for a while?” I say, a little uncertain. He spins around on his heels, eyes wide as they land on me.

“Really? I mean, yes, stay. Of course!” He’s searching my face for something. I’m not sure what he expects to find, though, because I have no clue as to what I’m thinking or feeling about anything at this point.

“Seeing as I’m clearly weak from blood loss, I shouldn’t be walking around on my own, wreaking havoc in the West End,” I say and my smirk comes so naturally at the way his lips curve into a wide grin.

“Yes, that’s a smart move, Tomlinson, you’d be scaring the locals, wandering around looking for your marbles,” he deadpans.

“My marbles?” I ask, confused. That brings out a mischievous smile on his face.

“Yes, because clearly you’ve lost some of them,” he says just as I catch on. I snort loudly but quickly bring a hand up to my nose, eyes widening. It appears that I’m safe, though, because Dougie just starts laughing. I lower my hand and grin stupidly at him, not telling him how that was such a Harry thing to say. I swallow down the lump in my throat I get from thinking of Harry. Instead I just keep smiling at Dougie as he keeps smiling back at me. I haven’t decided if it’s butterflies or snakes in my stomach yet. But I’m smiling nonetheless. _Maybe I have lost my marbles._

I decline the wine though, and get a steaming cup of tea instead. It annoys me to no end that he remembers how I like it with just a splash of milk. We end up on his sofa in his living room. He actually has a living room. His flat is way bigger than mine. It’s like, a flat that belongs to a real grown up. I tell him as much and he just laughs and says he did have a job working at an Apple store before he was offered the job at the youth centre back in Doncaster. So it made sense for him not to be crammed up in a small flat when he could afford a bigger one. 

He’s the same but yet he isn’t. His smiles are more honest, he’s not questioning everything I say and he feels more genuine. Maybe I wasn’t the only one insecure. He still looks at me like he knows who I really am though, but it’s in that moment I realise he just _thinks_ he knows who I am. He never really knew me at all, did he? At the very least, he has no idea who I am now and I’m not sure if I want him to. It dawns on me so abruptly that I inch away from him on pure instinct, the need for distance almost instant. It goes unnoticed however, and thank fuck for that. I take in a deep breath to try and calm my rabbiting heart, but apparently it wasn’t quiet enough because he stops talking and turns to me with a slightly amused frown on his face.

“Am I boring you? I am, aren’t I?” he grins a little self-consciously. “I’m sorry, I tend to talk a lot about my job, I’ll stop,” he says and reaches for his cup on the table.

“No, no, you’re not boring, I promise! I find it kind of nice that you love your job, I can tell you’re passionate about it,” I tell him while softly putting my hand on his upper arm. His eyes immediately shift towards our point of contact. I remove my hand slowly, like I’m trying not to spook him and that’s weird, so I try to compensate by bringing my hand up to quickly tousle my fringe. I end up poking myself in the eye. 

“Ouch, fuck.” I clasp my palm over the eye I just poked. Smooth, Tomlinson, really smooth. I hear a giggling, choking kind of noise and I lower my hand to squint at Dougie, who is looking at me with wide eyes, hands clamped over his mouth like he didn’t intend to make that noise. He never used to _giggle_ , too manly for that. Maybe he has changed, I think for the tenth time tonight.

“I poked myself,” I tell him dumbly. Why am I so dumb around him? Still?

“Yeah, I saw that,“ he says and bursts out laughing, the sound bubbly and apparently contagious because it makes me laugh as well. It must have looked really fucking stupid, me poking myself while obviously trying to be subtle. The thought makes me laugh even harder, which causes him to laugh harder, and then we’re just laughing away like to maniacs. 

Apparently, laughing has caused my body do move back those few inches I managed to put between us, because Dougie is suddenly in my space. I can even smell his cologne from this close up, or is it his shampoo? Either way, it’s making my head spin.

Our laughter has started to ebb, quickly turning into us just staring at each other. I feel myself zeroing in on his mouth and the small smile he’s sporting. I try to swallow but my heart is in my throat all of a sudden and his breathing is as shallow as mine seems to be. I can feel his gaze roaming over my face and that small smile of his disappears.

“You okay?” he whispers, and I lean forward on instinct to try and catch his words. I can feel his breath across my face and I lick my lips. His gaze moves to my mouth at the motion and he reaches up to touch my fringe, combing it back away from my face. Then he lays his palm over my cheek and I close my eyes, can’t help but to lean into it. What am I doing? A weird sense of ’wrong’ sneaks up on me as i breathe in the way he smells.. It’s too much, too musty, too…not floral. 

_“Are you asking for my permission to fuck your ex boyfriend?”_

My eyes fly open at the voice so clear in my head. I pull in a hasty breath, leaning backwards, away from his hand that falls flat in his lap as I get up from the sofa, trying to regain control of my body.

He blinks up at me. “Where’re you going?” he asks, brows furrowing a little.

“Uhm, I should be getting home, I have work tomorrow,” I say, backing up, knocking into the table a little with my leg. I hiss at the slight pain but keep moving backwards as he gets up.

“Oh, okay,” he says and remains standing on the other side of the table. I turn around and walk out of the room, towards the hall where my shoes and coat is, the aids to get me the fuck out of here. _Why are you in my head, Haz?_

“Louis, wait!” I hear him call and I look up from tying my laces, one knee on the floor. He comes through the doorway, but stops there and I’m so thankful for it as I get up and pull my coat off the hanger. I’m slightly panicked at the confusing combination of wanting to kiss Dougie and Harry’s hurt voice, of me wanting… something else. I’m not even sure what that is. Shit. I really have to go.

“Thank you for stopping by,” he just says and I can tell that he’s kind of sad. But I can’t dwell on that.

“Thanks for having me, thank you for the cleaning up me nosebleed and… for the tea, for everything, thank you” I’m rambling again, but I don’t care as I turn around and press down the handle, shoving the door open. I have one foot out the door when I turn around to say good bye, when suddenly he’s not by the doorway to the living room anymore. He’s right behind me, his hand around my elbow. I freeze.

“It was really great seeing you,” he whispers, his voice a shade darker and his eyes are slightly pleading. But I can’t stay.

“I really have to go,” I rasp out.

“Okay,” he says, his voice also raspy and quiet, disappointed. I see it in his eyes. I’m disappointed as well, I don’t know what I was expecting coming here but it wasn’t this confused mess of shit I’m currently standing in. 

I turn away from him and I’m barely aware of my body as I stumble down the stairs and out into the cold December air. I’m certainly not aware of the angry tears streaming down my face as I make my way home. What the fuck is wrong with me?

When I come home, I’m still ignoring the steady stream of tears and doing my best to supress the hiccups as well. I won’t have a nervous breakdown. Not again, not for the second time in less than a week. 

“I’m fine,” I breathe out to my empty flat as I stumble towards the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of water and gulping it all down in one go. I shrug out of my grey jumper while simultaneously trying to unbutton my almost too-tight jeans. Why do I insist on wearing these stupid jeggings anyway? _Because you were trying to look good for him, you idiot,_ the annoying but awfully familiar voice in my head tells me. Right. It can’t be healthy hearing your best friend’s voice inside your head while thinking about hooking up with someone else, right? I snort wetly at myself while throwing the jumper on the sofa, the grey contrasting against the white fabric of the cushions. White is a really impractical colour for a sofa, for further reference. What was I thinking? 

I’m grateful for the way my brain is trying to distract me, distract me from thinking about Harry. About Dougie. From how royally I’ve botched this up. Why did I agree to see him? Why did I stay? I knew it was a bad fucking idea. 

I start panicking again at where my thoughts are heading, not even noticing how I’ve been thumping my fist against the back of the horrible white sofa. It really is so fucking ugly. Why did I buy a white sofa? I don’t even _like_ white. 

The thought of the sofa keeps me distracted enough as I peel out of the rest of my clothes before crawling under the covers of my bed and curling up into a ball. Just as I’m about to drift off to sleep, my brain still obsessing over the sofa, my phone starts vibrating. I start a little, turning over and reaching after my phone on the floor. Harry. Shit, right. Ungh.

“’llo?” I answer, wincing at how rough my voice sounds.

“You were supposed to call me,” he greets, annoyed, but I hear relief in his voice as well.

“Sorry. Forgot,” I just say, curling up into a ball again, phone between my head and the pillow.

“I’m sorry about earlier, did you have a good time with…him?” he asks tentatively, trying to be nice about something he disapproves of. He being so unselfish makes all the feels kick in again. A sob rips through my throat and comes out as a desperate cry.

“Lou? What’s wrong?” His voice concerned now, and that just makes it even worse. I let out a pathetic wailing, gurgling noise and that gets him frantic. 

“Talk to me, _please_ ,” he pleads, instantly worried and I try to form words but all that comes out are sniffling sounds and sobbing.

“What did that fucking arsehole do?” he asks then, almost growling, anger filtering through the concern.

“Nothing! He didn’t do anything, it’s me! I’m such a complete idiot!” I manage through the tears.

“But what happened?” Confusion now mixing in with the anger and worry.

“I don’t know!” I cry loudly.

“Are you at home?”

“Yes!” I don’t know why I’m this frantic.

“Alright, I’m driving down,” he says, already having made up his mind.

“No,” I choke out, I take deep breathe. “I’m fine.” It comes out as a sob.

“You’re not, I’m coming,” he says, voice determined.

“Harry, please.” I’m not sure now if I’m begging him to stay or to come.

“I’ll take the M1 and there’s probably no traffic so it’ll take less than 3 hours, okay?” And that’s that, I already hear him thrashing around, rustling with his keys and probably packing a bag.

“I’ve-” I try to tell him that I have work tomorrow, but he stops me.

“It’s fine, love. I’m getting in the car now, do you need me to stay on the phone?” he asks, and I shake my head.

“No,” I whisper around a dry sob. Huh. I guess I’m starting to dry up.

“Alright, try to get some sleep, I’ll let myself in, yeah?” I hear his Toyota coming to life in the background and I inhale my first steady breath since I got up from Dougie’s sofa. 

“Okay,” I manage, snot and tears making my voice thick and we hang up with a quiet ‘bye’.

***

_Saturday_  
November 28th  


It’s a little after three in the morning when I start awake by the door closing with a not-so-quiet snick. I turn around and spot Harry bent down pulling his boots of, bracing himself with on hand on the doorframe a small duffel bag at his feet. He looks up at the movement and stops short, probably scared of the vision that is me. Hair most likely a mess, dried up salt and, let’s face it, snot, all over my face. I suck in my bottom lip between my teeth in a vain attempt to stop the tears from starting again at the sight of him.

“Oh, babe…” he whispers, the corners of his mouth turned down in a sad frown. He unwraps himself from his scarf and shrugs out of his jacket, just throwing it on the floor as he makes his way over to me.

“I’m sorry,” I rasp out, my voice rough with sleep and from crying too much. He just hums and slides under the covers, nudging me a little to make room. I oblige and he wraps his arms around me, pulling me to his chest and I lay my head down below his shoulder. I’m so grateful for him in this moment, my tears now welling because of that. Apparently I’m not dried up just yet.

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re fine,” he mumbles into my hair. He rubs his hand over my back and starts giving me nonsense words of comfort. It helps. I drift off again when he starts combing his fingers through my hair.

When I wake up a while later, my neck is stiff and my face is lying against something quite hard and wet. I soon realise it’s Harry’s chest and teardrenched t-shirt. I hear him snoring above me and I try to move a little, recognising the wetness as not just tears but also drool. Charming. My stirring has Harry snapping awake, arms tightening around me in reflex. I gasp because the crick in my neck throbs as his arms pin my head down at an awkward angle.

“Sorry,” he mumbles and I pat his tear-stained chest.

“Me too,” I say and sniffle a little, rubbing the tips of my fingers over and under my eyes before looking back down at him. His hair is in some sort of half-bun on top of his head and he’s slightly bluish under his eyes. He still looks so soft. My heart does a weird double beat.

“Hey, no, it’s fine,” he yawns and I try to smile a little.

“Time ’sit?” I ask, sitting up fully, petting my own chest for a bit to calm my nervous heart. I sit with my legs crossed, noticing my tank is all crooked so I start pulling on it, trying to right it. Harry looks away and coughs awkwardly before unzipping one of the pockets of the blue track-pants he’s wearing. He pulls out his phones to look at the time.

“9.37” 

“Shit… I have to be at work in like, an hour,” I sigh, getting up on my hands and knees, trying to back up and off the bed. I suck in air through my teeth as I’m standing up, clasping my head as it throbs painfully. 

“You alright?” he asks, worry already lacing his tone.

“Yeah, just a headache,” I say and shrug.

“You sure you’re up for work?” I nod, wincing again.

“Yeah, I have to, need the money,” I say, trudging over to the kitchen to put the kettle on. I feel hollow. “Besides, it’s just a four hour shift. I’m covering for James while he drops of his kids at his ex’s… she’s moved all the way down to Canterbury so it takes him like 3 hours back and forth,” I babble, not sure why I think Harry needs this information. I realise that I’m nervous. I’ve never been nervous around Harry before.

“You want tea, right?” I call over my shoulder, trying to mask my fluttering nerves as I’m filling up the kettle with water.

“You’re joking? Of course I want tea,” he calls back, affronted. I hear him moving around and then he’s standing in the small entryway to my cupboard kitchen. I avoid looking him straight in the eye, embarrassed, but I can tell he’s waiting for me to say something, his lips pursed.

“What happened last night?” he finally asks, probably realising I won’t be the one to break the silence.

“There’s nothing to say. I saw Dougie, it was a disaster, I ran away, came home and had a bit of a meltdown,” I say, trying to shrug it off, but swallowing and closing my eyes at the same time.

“Come on, Lou… don’t do this to yourself, or me,” he says, looking at me pleadingly. “You have to talk about stuff like this, it's not good to keep it all inside.” 

“I… I have to get ready for work,” I just say, pushing past him carefully and making my way to the bathroom, closing the door and turning on the faucet.

I’m just straightening up from the sink, having washed my face when suddenly Harry’s right behind me, watching me in the mirror with a concerned frown on his face. I don’t follow his gaze, unable to look myself in the eye. I know what I look like.

“You need to stop for a while, Lou,” he says in his slow voice, that worried tone he gets when he thinks I’m not taking care of myself. Which, I guess, he has a right to think at this point. I know I need to try to reassure him. I’m not sure how to do that since I’m so far from feeling reassured myself. Has he always been this soft looking in the mornings? I shake my head, trying to rid myself of all thoughts of soft Harry. _What the fuck is wrong with me?_

“I have to get ready for work, you can come with and then afterwards I promise I’ll start talking, I promise. But I’m just really tired, like, bone tired and I’m guessing that’s what did me in last night.” I try a reassuring smile, but I’m almost positive it reads as a painful grimace because his frown won’t disappear.

“Really, I promise, we’ll talk after my shift,” I say, stepping up to him and patting him on his cheek while I for the first time this morning look up into his green, sad eyes. I need to make him not sad. “Thank you, for worrying about me and for driving down here. I swear to you that we will talk later. I swear very much a lot,” I tell him earnestly and finally there’s a small smile on his lips. 

Before I can think anything of it I step up on my toes to give him a peck on the cheek. As I’m about to touch my lips to his skin, he flinches so hard the kiss lands on his mouth instead, causing him to move backwards so quickly that I just follow and I lose my balance, my lips still pressed to his at an awkward angle. I burst out laughing, catching myself on his chest, my fingers curling into the fabric of his white t-shirt. He makes a hrmpf-ing sound as he grips my upper arms and softly pushes me away from him, my hands still on his chest. The look on his face last for just a split second, but it’s enough to throw me. His eyes are wide and shocked, pupils blown and he’s worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. I look at my hands on his chest and I can feel his heart hammering underneath them. I slowly let go of his shirt, patting his chest a bit before taking a step back. He inhales loudly and as he exhales he’s smiling again. I frown a little but decide to let it go for now, I’ll ask later. Later is an excellent concept. Later works for everything.

“So, will you come with me to work?” I ask instead, turning around and reaching for the deodorant on the shelf next to the sink, grabbing at the hem of my ragged t-shirt to pull it over my head, trying control my breathing. Seriously, what the fuck is happening to me?

There’s no sound coming from behind me so I lift my head to look at him in the mirror. He’s biting his lip again, he, too, staring in the mirror, but not at my face. He’s staring at my chest. My _naked_ chest, I might add. I tilt my head while studying his face, trying to place the look he on it. It looks almost like… but no, why would he? Suddenly, my heart beat is racing and I can feel a slight flush creeping up my chest, when did it get so hot in here? I swallow as I keep looking at Harry. 

“I, uhh, what?” he mumbles and then coughs into his fist, eyes drifting from my chest as he meets my eye for a split second before turning away and leaving the cramped bathroom. 

“Uhm, work? You coming?” I say to his retreating back and I can hear him cough again.

“Right, yeah, sure, is it still the one over on Goodge street?” he asks loudly from what I assume is the kitchen. I smile at how good he’s gotten at navigating himself in London. He used to be really rubbish at it when I first moved here and he and Niall were visiting like, all the time. I shake my head, trying to rid myself of all the weird tension as I focus on putting on my deodorant.

“Yeap, that’s the one,” I call out, digging through the pile of clothes that’s supposedly not dirty, pulling out my blue short sleeved work shirt. I hate the feeling of still being wet in my armpits when I have to get dressed, so I rip of a piece of toilet paper and dab it under my arms to get rid of the worst deodorant residue before buttoning the shirt.

I sigh as I approach the mirror, I have to make sure I’m not a disaster at least. I’m blotchy and a little swollen around the eyes, but it’s not so bad. My hair is a mess but it kind of works so I just pull a little on my fringe to make it look a little more styled against my forehead. There.

“Perfect,” I whisper sarcastically to myself. I press my hand to the white TESCO-logo on my chest, and then smooth my hand down to pull a little at the hem, it’s slightly wrinkled. I’m stacking today tough so I don’t need to look my best. I sigh as I grab my name pin from the shelf, sticking it through the fabric on the opposite side of the logo.

***

Despite it being a really short shift it feels like I’ve spent several days here when I finally clock out to meet up with Harry, exhausted but so much more at ease now. When I see Harry sitting there, scrolling through his phone with a paper bag at his feet and absently tugging on a loose curl that has escaped his bun, my chest abruptly bursts out in fluttery flames, licking their way up my throat and to my face. He hasn’t seen me yet and I feel my legs coming to a halt, I just stand there looking at him. Great, now I’m creepily staring at my best friend. Way to go, Tomlinson. Get a fucking grip, it’s just Harry for fuck’s sake.

That’s when Harry decides to look up from his phone and notice me, face splitting in two from his smile, dimples impossibly deep in his cheeks. The flames start screaming in my chest. Can flames scream? Hm. This is getting weird. I clear my throat and manage a smile as I start walking again, trying to push down this weird thing happening in my body.

“All done?” he asks brightly while bending to pick up the paper bag at his feet, one of his knees almost bursting through the ripped hole in his unfairly tight black jeans. Has his legs always been that long? I swallow.

“Uh huh, yeap, all done, what ya got there?” I rasp out in rush before clearing my throat again, coughing a little into my fist. Jesus, _get it together._ If Harry notices anything he’s doing a fine job ignoring it.

“Wine, crisps, frozen pizza, that disgusting dressing you like…” He trails of, watching my expression. God, how is he real and what have I done to deserve him?

“What’s wrong?” he asks carefully, eyeing me suspiciously.

“Nothing’s wrong, it’s just… this is perfect Hazza, really, this is exactly what I want, just you and greasy food, ” I tell him, looking up at his face while trying not to vomit my fondness all over him. He beams back at me, a flush creeping up his neck. 

“Well, good,” he says, smile sincere and a little bit... bashful?

“Alright then! Let’s go!” I exclaim and it might be weird that my voice is so high. I think it’s weird. I start walking and Harry is right behind me as we set off to my flat. I don’t think we’ve ever been this quiet. 

Later we’re half a bottle of wine in and I am giggling. Yeap. I have resorted to being a giddy fucking teenager because Harry is not wearing a shirt and I cannot get Saoirse’s words about him being hot out of my head. See, I spilled some wine on him. Uh. A lot of wine.

“I’m sorry about your shirt,” I manage between giggles.

“Why are you laughing at me?” He pouts as he flops back on the sofa.

“I’m not laughing at you, I promise,” I tell him, still laughing while shifting in my seat so I’m facing him, tucking my leg in underneath me. 

“Are too,” he keeps pouting, but a smile is threatening to break through. I can tell because his cheeks are dimpling. Since I apparently have lost any kind of attachment to reality, I put my finger in the left one and press a little.

Harry says nothing, just lets his smile break lose as he keeps watching me. I pull my hand back, but I can’t seem to stop smiling.

“Thank you for this, really,” I say sincerely.

“Anytime, Lou” he says, equally sincere. After that we’re just kind of quiet, staring at each other but it’s not awkward. I feel none of the panic from last night, sitting in a similar position with Doug. I just feel at ease.

“I’m really sorry if I scared you last night,” I mumble eventually, not able to really look him in eye anymore, but also struggling to look away. It’s not an easy thing I tell you.

“You did,” he mumbles back. “But if you just tell me what happened I’ll forgive you?” He makes it into a question. I take a small sip of my wine before putting the glass back on the table.

“That’s the thing though, I don’t really know what happened. I mean, one minute I was so sure what I was doing and the next, I just… wanted to get out of there. I got this really panicky feeling and he just felt so bloody wrong all of a sudden, you know?” Harry nods like he knows. “And then it was just… it might be weird to say this, but I couldn’t get you out of my head.” I laugh a little self consciously, scratching the back of my neck.

“I was in your head?” Harry asks, raising his brows, a lopsided smile on his face.

“Yeah, you were, like I could hear you telling me how stupid I was being,” I laugh awkwardly again. “And then… nothing really happened. I wanted to go, so I left. He didn’t want me to leave and I just got… I was just so confused. Honestly, that’s what happened, like, _nothing_ happened. We didn’t even kiss or anything, I just. Panicked and ran away,” I finish, sticking to the truth. I’m done with lying. The look that flies over Harry’s face is one of surprise, but also relief.

“You didn’t kiss him?” he asks and he sounds almost gleeful.

“That’s what you got from that?” I ask incredulously. 

“Uh, well, that and that I’m in your head.” He still looks kind of happy. Almost giddy.

“Well, you’re always in my head,” I mutter, poking an accusing finger at his (still naked) chest.

“I am?” Surprised now. He looks down to where my finger is still pressed into one of the swallows on his chest.

“Yes,” I swallow around the throbbing lump in my throat.

“What am I doing in your head then?” he asks. Did his voice just drop a few octaves?

“Uh, you’re mostly just there, like hanging around… taking your shirt off and stuff.” Ungh, what the fuck was that? Enough wine for me. 

Harry’s eyes shoot up to meet mine. His pupils blown.

“I’m in your head without my shirt?” he rumbles and yeap, his voice definitely has a deeper timbre now. For some reason it makes me shudder. I clear my throat.

“Well, you do have penchant for taking off your clothes at all hours, so you can’t really blame me, can you? I mean look at you, here you are with your tits out!” I cringe internally at the shrill in my own voice.

“You spilled wine on my only t-shirt!” he shrieks, affronted but also grinning. “Besides, it doesn’t seem to bother you,” he smirks while motioning to his chest, where my finger has apparently started to trace the contours of the swallow I previously just poked at.

“Well, it is essentially a depiction of me so I’m really just touching what’s mine, aren’t I?” I say, flattening out my palm over the swallow on the right. I see Harry’s throat bob and I feel his heart hammering in his chest.

“What’s yours...” he repeats in a rasp.

I look up to his face and his pupils are blown wide. I can’t help it but I lick my lips.

“Yeah,” I whisper, my voice suddenly a little rough.

We keep looking at each other and I can not only feel Harry’s heart, but I can feel my own pulse everywhere. I’m not sure how we got here, but all I can think about is how good he smells and how warm his skin is and how my head is screaming at me - _fuck, fuck, fuck this is your best friend!_ I can’t seem to be bothered by that right now though. Harry licks his lips and I drop my gaze to watch the motion. That’s the moment I decide to throw it all to hell as Harry’s hand curls around my jaw. He whispers “Fuck it,” - the words making my stomach drop and then his lips are on mine.

The angle of our bodies is awkward but it doesn’t matter because the fit is perfect anyway. His lips are moulding against mine and he’s so warm. I whimper as I feel his tongue sweeping against my bottom lip. I let him in without hesitation, his tongue sliding against mine and I would be embarrassed of the sounds coming out from me if it wasn’t for the fact that he is making the same kind of sounds. His hand presses against the side of my face, his thumb stroking my jaw. I slide the hand that’s been on his chest up his neck and into his hair, pulling it loose from the bun. The moan he makes at the back of his throat as I drag my fingers through his hair shoots straight to my cock and, _fuck_ , how is this so hot? His other hand has found it’s way to my lower back, pressing me closer to him and my body is not my body anymore as I get up on my knees, straddling his hips. Harry gasps into my mouth as I adjust on his lap, making me aware of exactly how _not_ alone I am in this madness.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he groans as he presses me impossibly closer with both hands now on my lower back, carefully thrusting his hips up. It elicits a moan out of me, I can’t help it as I feel his hard length pressed against my arse. He keeps kissing me, tongue roaming my mouth and I don’t think I’ve ever been this hot in my entire life. He lets go of my arse to start peeling my vest off and I detach my lips from his for the few seconds it takes to pull the shirt over my head and throw it away. The cold air hits my flushed skin and makes me shiver. I surge back down to keep kissing him and he moans into my mouth as his hands roam all over my naked back before landing on my bum again. His large hands cover my arse cheeks, giving them a good squeeze.

“God, Harry, what’s happening?” I whine between kisses, my lips already feel raw.

“Ungh, I don’t know, but I’m _not_ complaining,” he says, voice raspy and out of breath, thrusting up again as I grind down do meet him, dragging a deliciously loud moan from his lips. It throws me a little and prompts me to make sure of something. I put my hands on the sides of his face, pulling him away for a moment so I can look at him. He stares back at me, eyes filled with lust and his thrusts not relenting, neither is my grinding. I can feel the sweat starting to pool at the base of my spine and there are pearls of sweat decorating Harry’s furrowed brows. His eyes are glassy and his mouth slightly open, saliva glistening on his bottom lip. I’m not sure if the wetness is mine or his and I don’t know why that’s so fucking hot but it is. 

I was supposed to ask something. Right.

“How drunk are you?” I ask, matching the rasp in his voice. He looks at me for a while, his green eyes imploring, breathing hard.

“Drunk enough that I know I wanna do this, but not so drunk you should feel guilty about taking advantage?” he says, slow and deliberate, eyes now filled with mirth. I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of me.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you just _Friends_ quoted me,” I say breathlessly, grin threatening to split my face in two.

“That’s not what you’re supposed to say,” he pouts. How does he manage to make a pout sexy? Might have something to do with how his hands are on my bum and his cock nuzzled against it.

“Sorry, sorry… uhm, that’s the perfect amount?” I say, licking my lips, smirking. 

“That’s better,” he allows before he dives back in, licking into my mouth. 

I move my hands to the back of his head again, burying them in his curls, tugging a little to tilt his head upwards to get a better angle. He makes this keening noise at the back of his throat at the action, so I try tugging gently one more time. He lets out a deep moan. Interesting.

He starts kissing down my throat then, sucking bruises under my jaw like he’s marking me up and fuck, it shouldn’t make me burn like this but it does. It makes me grind down harder, precome soaking through my pants, probably staining my joggers. I can’t be bothered to care. I tilt my head to give him more access as I tug on his hair again, feeling his tongue lick over my fevered skin.

“Lou, fuck, I’m gonna come if you keep doing that,” he moans against my throat and I bend my head back down to look at him. He takes the opportunity to kiss me again.

“Is that a bad thing?” I pant into his mouth, feeling my own orgasm building at the pit of my stomach. He smirks and grunts in response. Guess not, then.

Our thrusts are almost frantic now, his hands squeezing at my arse, our foreheads touching as we’re just panting into each other’s mouths. I tilt my head down a bit, seeing the obscene bulge in my joggers rubbing against Harry’s naked stomach with every grind, head of my cock almost visible over the top of the waistband. Harry follows my gaze.

“Fuck, _look_ at you, fuck, _fuck_ ,” he moans brokenly and his thrusts stutter as he squeezes my arse, making my cock press even harder into his stomach. I look back up just as Harry lets out a deep moan and he comes. In his pants. From the sight of me rubbing against him. _Fuck._ The thought sends me over the edge with him and I shoot off in my joggers. Harry kisses my neck gently, drags his teeth along the column of my throat until my head drops down to his shoulder and I finally feel my heart slowing. I turn my head to press my mouth against Harry’s pulse point, feeling him come down as well.

We sit there for quite a while, pressing gentle kisses to each others skin, my nose, Harry’s jawline. I can’t be bothered to move just yet, but soon enough the come in my pants is starting to dry up and it’s not exactly comfortable. I’m guessing Harry’s situation is about the same.

“We should clean up,” he whispers against my skin, making me smile because he really is in my head. “And get to bed,” he finishes.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to move,” I admit, burrowing my face deeper into his hair. He smells so good, why does he always smell so good? Even sweaty and sex warm he smells incredible.

“I know baby, want me to carry you?” he rumbles in my ear, the term of endearment making my stomach swoop. I grin into his hair and nod. He takes a firmer hold around my upper thighs and start to get up. Oh no.

“No, Harry! I was joking, you’ll kill us!” I start but he’s already standing and my flailing limbs are not helping so I calm down. It’s not like it’s far to my bed. Three steps later Harry is putting me down on the bed with a low grunt, hovering above me, curls falling down to frame his face.

“I’ll be right back,” he says gently. I pull him down by his neck to kiss him again, can’t help myself. He kisses me back, tongue searching my mouth carefully, much more sensual now than earlier. He pulls back way too soon, but I allow him to go get us some wet flannels. While I’m struggling to get my joggers down, my phone vibrates on the floor. At first I plan to ignore it but it vibrates again, so I groan out and I twist on the bed while kicking the joggers all the way off before reaching down to pick it up.

It’s not my phone - it’s Harry’s. The screen alight with two messages from Niall.

[Niall Horan] **02.03**  
_hazzaaaaaa how’d it go in london_  


[Niall Horan] **02.04**  
_did u tell him???? what did he..._  


I can’t read more without opening the phone and I won’t do that so I scramble to put the phone back down on the floor, pulse picking up at the guilt of accidentally having read Harry’s messages. Even if it’s just Niall. I fall back on the bed, hating the fact that I’m itching to pick it back up to read. How did what go, tell me what? Because I’m assuming I’m ‘him’. Is that too narcissistic? Harry has other friends in London. Well, not really but he could. My mind is reeling, trying to come up with what Niall could’ve meant. I should just ask Harry, right? It’s not like I went to read his messages on purpose. 

Harry returns then, wearing nothing but what I’m assuming is a pair of clean pants, wet flannel in hand. I gulp, wondering how I’ve been so blind when it comes to him. He reaches the bed, handing me the flannel before getting under the covers. I swallow hard before standing up to get my pants off, towelling myself clean while I’m struggling to grasp what just happened here. Post-orgasm bliss muddling together with how this is my _best_ friend, with the meaning of Niall’s texts, with how absolutely gorgeous Harry looks right now, soft smile on his lips and eyes closed - like he’s giving me privacy to clean up.

I look around the room in search of my discarded t-shirt, finding it by my feet so I bend down to pick it up, pull it over my head and crawl back into bed with Harry. Harry Styles. My best friend. And I’m not wearing any pants. Alrighty. I feel him looking at me as I lie down on my back, staring up into the ceiling. I’m not sure what the etiquette is here. And I can’t stop thinking about what Niall meant.

“What’s in your head?” Harry asks the side of my face. _Did you tell him?_

“Niall,” I blurt out without a second thought. Stupid sex-brain. I feel Harry stiffen a little beside me.

“You’re thinking of Niall right now?” He asks, bewildered and I turn to face him, his brows drawn together but with an amused smile on his lips.

“Yeah, but not like that _obviously_. I mean… uhm, you uh, got a text. I thought it was my phone. Sorry,” I say, feeling sheepish. 

Harry’s eyes go almost comically wide before turning around to retrieve his phone. I hear him unlocking it, pulling in a loud breath through his nose. I look at the stiffness in his broad shoulders as he reads the messages before locking it again, turning back to me. 

He says nothing as we lay facing each other, but I can see in his green eyes how he’s debating with himself. I’m usually better at waiting him out, but right now I’m as impatient as ever.

“So, _did_ you tell me?” I ask instead of keeping quiet. He closes his eyes briefly before opening them, a more determined look in them now.

“No, not exactly…” he says slowly.

“What’s that mean?” 

“It means that I kind of... showed you... instead?” He drags the words out. He showed… _oh_. I swallow hard, heart fluttering in my chest.

“Right,” I wheeze out before clearing my throat. “But uhm, since I seem to be a little daft, why don’t you tell me in words, as well?” I swallow again, staring into his eyes as I lick my lips. He flicks his gaze to my mouth and he gulps. He actually _gulps_. He looks away then, nervous energy bouncing off of him as he starts staring at a fixed point on my chest. I’m guessing it’s the number 78-tattoo.

“I’m in love with you,” he tells the tattoo on my chest, voice breaking a little. 

My heart drops down to my stomach before shooting straight up into my throat as jagged pieces of information and feelings finally start clicking into place. His reaction to my kiss on his hand all those weeks ago, his sour looks at Olly at the bar, his blown pupils at the accidental kiss in the bathroom. And then there’s my feelings, his calming effect on my nerves, the strong sense of _home_ I feel when I’m near him or even just hear his voice. The empty feeling in my chest every time I have to go back to London. The snuggling, the hugging, the kisses on top of heads and nightly phone calls, all these years. How he kept creeping into my head when I was with Dougie. That phone call. He was _jealous_. 

I inhale slow but deep, his eyes not straying from my chest. I start to smile.

“Alright. Now say that to my face,” I tell him, putting my finger to his chin to tilt his head back up, but there’s no need, he goes freely. His eyes shoot up to mine at my words, searching for something as I feel my smile grow even bigger. The corners of his mouth start to turn up, hopeful.

“I’m in love with you,” he repeats, ever so slowly, eyes boring into mine and I can feel all the pent up emotions in him, see it in his eyes as they start to go a little watery.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it,” I start, shaking my head in disbelief at myself, at how fantastically dumb I’ve been and how _obvious_ it all seems now, “I’m in love with you too,” I finish with a grin.

His face splits into this breathtaking smile, knocking the last breath out of me before he surges forward. His hand on my waist pulls me closer to him as our laughing mouths meet, not much of a kiss but it’s the most intense feeling of happiness I’ve ever felt. Soon the kiss turns dirtier as our laughter dies down and in a show of uncharacteristic coordination, Harry swiftly rolls us over so he’s on top of me. My thighs bracket his hips and my hands go to his chest. He grinds down slowly as he sucks my bottom lip in between his teeth, giving it a teasing bite before licking into my mouth again, curling his tongue around mine. I gasp at the sensation, brain going muddled again as all my blood rushes south. But no, wait.

“Harry, wait,” I pant into his mouth, trying to push gently at his shoulders while also bucking up to meet his thrusts. I realise I might be sending some mixed messages here.

“What?” he gasps anyway, bracing himself on his arms and slowing his hips slightly, looking down at me.

“I just. Shouldn’t we talk about this?” I ask, voice already breathless. He bites his lip as he ponders my words before he starts nodding.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” he says while pulling away with a frustrated look on his face. No, I don’t want that either, I realise as I immediately miss the friction.

“On the other hand, we’ve been doing nothing but talking for the past seven years and we’ve never done this so we should also, umh, also just do this,” I rush out, looking at him while blowing my already sweaty fringe out of my eyes. 

“You’re right about that too,” he grins and starts up his thrusts again. He’s already hard, his length rubbing against mine, and oh, I’m not wearing any pants. Right. 

“I’m not wearing any pants,” I tell him stupidly. He looks down for a second before meeting my eyes again, They’re shining with lust and mischief.

“Is that a bad thing?” he asks, mimicking me from earlier. God. Earlier, when I came from just rubbing against him. A ripple of pleasure shudders down my spine but I still manage to roll my eyes at him.

“Shut up,” I say before kissing him again, while struggling to get out of my t- shirt. Not an easy job.

“Ungh, I thought I removed this earlier, why do you have this thing on again?” Harry groans while trying to help me, finally freeing me from the annoying garment.

“I thought I told you to...shut up,” I groan, my worked up breathing taking the edge off my words. “Besides, why do you have these on? Take them _off,_ ” I almost growl as I start tugging on his pants. He laughs breathlessly at me before climbing off me to remove them, his cock springing free and bouncing up to his stomach. My mouth waters.

“Jesus,” I gasp as I look down at him, licking my lips again as he bends back down, fitting himself in between my legs.

“You’ve seen me naked before, Lou,” he says with a smirk, adjusting us so our cocks align on my stomach.

“I’ve never seen you hard before,” I object. 

He just chuckles before licking his palm, taking us both in hand and starts pulling us off. Fuck. I’ll shut up now. He groans as his thumb gathers the precome on his cock to spread it out, making the drag even smoother. I lift my fist from the mattress to curl it around us as well, earning another deep moan from Harry. My other hand scrape at the back of his neck. When he starts thrusting in earnest I meet his grind with my hips as we pull us off together. 

“Do you have _any idea_ how gorgeous you are?” he groans and I look down our bodies, and well. The sight is almost enough to make me come.

“You’re one to talk,” I gasp out, moving my hand to cup it over the heads of or cocks, spreading our precome out in my palm, making it slick as our cocks keep bumping into it.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last Lou, I…” He moans desperately, looking into my eyes with his brows drawn together. 

“Yeah no, I’m almost there,” I gasp, equally desperate but not quite there. He drags his lips to my ear, biting slightly at my earlobe and I moan brokenly.

“Next time, I wanna put my mouth on you” he whispers filthily, breath hot against my ear. “Suck you down, swallow around you and let you come in my mouth,” he finishes, hot shivers sizzling down my spine and I throw my head back as I come in my palm, Harry half a second behind me.

“Good to know you’re not opposed to a blow job,” Harry chuckles airily as he rolls off me moments later and I manage to shove at him even though my limbs feel like concrete, having come twice in less than an hour. The shove just makes him laugh even more. Hmpf.

“That was weak, Tomlinson,” he says, turning around again, facing me again with a huge grin over his face. My heart flutters again, and my god, how have I not _known?_

“Well, it’s all your fault,” I say, trying to sound grumpy, but that’s a hard task seeing as I’m grinning from ear to ear. 

He turns around abruptly, away from me and for a second I get an icy feeling in my gut, but when he turns back around he’s holding his phone, opening Snapchat , camera on selfie mode.

“What are you doing?” I wonder, bewildered. He looks down at me with a silly grin on his face.

“I’m answering Niall,” he says simply, like it’s obvious. “Now get in here and take a naked selfie with me.” His eyes glow with mischief and his smile huge.

“You’re terrible,” I tell him, grinning just as wide.

We both look into the camera, Harry making sure to show our naked chests and how close we are. I snicker as Harry captions it with _I told him. It went okay_ and sends it to Niall, putting the phone under his pillow.

“Wow, just ‘okay’? Nice, Styles, way to woo your man,” I say, rolling my eyes. He turns to look at me, eyebrows raised and mouth ajar in surprise. He collects himself pretty fast.

“My man, huh?” he asks happily and I feel the blush creeping up my neck. I still manage an eye roll and blow a raspberry against his shoulder. His phone chimes with a snapchat notification.

“Saved by the bell,” he drawls, smiling wide and picking up his phone again. 

It’s a selfie of Niall and Liam, eyes glassy and holding a bottle of beer each, huge grins on their faces. The caption reads _OPH MY GgOD U FILTHY MOFOS I KNEW IT LIAM KNEW IT TOO AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA YES_

I snort and Harry just keeps grinning, putting the phone back on the floor before turning back to me. His smile turns softer then, pulling me close by the hip and placing gentle kisses all over my face. I sigh in contentment. 

“We still have some stuff to work out,” I murmur against his throat, still damp from sweat.

“Mhm” he mumbles, dragging his clean hand through my hair. “Sleep first, though.”

“Yeah,” I answer, because I’m already drifting off, suddenly extremely tired and not caring about the come sticking to my stomach, drying in the short hairs.

“I love you,” he murmurs into my hair, and my heart makes a last double take before I fall asleep, feeling all the jagged puzzle pieces finally fitting into place.


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE EPILOGUE
> 
> Harry POV

_Friday_   
_December 11th  
_

I’ve just let Niall in through the door when my phone starts buzzing in my pocket.

“Beer’s in the fridge,” I tell Niall while showing him my phone, the screen lit up with a picture of Louis. He’s not looking at the camera, but to his left, his eyes crinkled with a huge drunken smile plastered on his face. He’s beautiful.

Niall nods his head and walks out to the kitchen as I make my way to the sofa.

“Hi, love,” I answer with a smile, sitting down, leaning my head back on the headrest.

“Hi Haz, you sound knackered?” Louis says, making it a question. Bless him.

“You’ve no idea, these bloody kids are gonna be the death of me. Christmas hols couldn’t have come at a better time,” I tell him, closing my eyes for a bit. Would it be rude to fall asleep?

“That bad, eh? Talk to me babes,” he says and I get the feeling that he’s stalling.

“Is that really why you called, though, to ask me about my day at work?” I ask, smirking.

“Is that so hard to believe? Am I really that bad of a friend?” he asks huffily.

“Do you really want me to answer that question?” I say while letting the smirk grow into a giant grin. It’s not like he can see me. Niall appears in the doorway, bottle of beer in one hand and scrolling through his phone with the other as he makes his way over, throwing himself down in the old chair, not spilling a drop of his beer. Impressive.

“Hmpf! I am shocked and appalled! I’m hanging up now,” Louis says then but I know he’s lying.

“No, wait! I’m sorry, I’ll be nice, what’s on your mind, love?” I apologise anyway. 

“Uhm, right…” he says slowly, still stalling. That makes me sit up a little straighter. Louis is not a stalling kind of person.

“Out with it, Lou,” I say after a few more moments of silence, making Niall look up with a raised eyebrow. I shrug.

“I’ve been texting Dougie the entire week and he has a flat here in London and he wants to meet tonight, but I’m not sure I should and Beebs made the weirdest comment and I can’t focus on anything and can you please help me,” Louis suddenly rushes out in my ear. I drag in a sharp breath, because _what_? I can hear Louis’ loud intake of air as well. Fucking _Doug_. Ugh. Niall’s looking at me funny and I don’t know which part of Louis’s statement to focus on.

“What weird comment?” I finally ask. Niall is still looking at me with narrowed eyes. I start playing with the strings of my joggers.

“I’m not even sure to be honest, something about you and some party and me having to get laid,” he says airily. I start sweating a little because Louis’ talking about him getting laid and me in the same sentence. Niall has put his phone away now,simply staring at me. I ignore him.

“What party? And wait what, what does you needing to get laid have to do with me? I mean, why are you talking about me and you and getting laid?” I manage between laughs, oh god what did I just say? I look up at Niall who’s still at me, eyes round and mouth open. I make a face at him.

“Why are you being weird?” Louis asks then. I feel the panic start to creep up my throat as I make a nervous little sound.

“I’m not being weird! You’re being weird!” 

Niall snorts quietly, I go back to ignoring him.

“Nice comeback, Styles, really,” Louis snorts. “But really though, I think I should go see him, just to see, you know?” He adds then, and my heart drops to my feet.

“See what, exactly?” I ask and cringe at how irritated I sound. There’s a very sour taste in my mouth.

“I don’t know!” he exclaims, frustrated. He’s frustrated? 

“Are you really asking for my permission to fuck your ex boyfriend?” I ask, and now I’m apparently sarcastic, too. Why is he even back in our lives? 

“Crude,” he mutters, but I don’t stop, fist clenched around the strings of my trousers.

“In that case, go right ahead Lou, by all means, don’t let me stop you,” I bite out, pulling harshly at the strings. What am I doing? I draw a deep breath and meet Niall’s eyes, he looks at me pityingly. 

“That wasn’t what…” he starts, and I think I can hear the faint click of a lighter, then I hear him blowing out air, or-

“Are you smoking right now?” I huff, frowning.

“Yes, I’m entitled to, don’t you think?” He sneers before he exhales loudly into the receiver. Now I know he’s doing it just to spite me.

“Why are you so stupid?” I can’t help but mutter.

“Why are you being such a twat?” he shoots back. Ouch.

“Ugh, stop” I groan because I don’t want to fight. “I don’t know what you’re asking me here, but sure, go see him. I think you can handle it, so go. Have sex, get it out of your system or whatever,” I tell him instead, the sour taste in my mouth filtering through to my words and I hate how jealous I feel.

“Haz-” Louis starts quietly, an apologetic tone in his voice. Fuck.

“No, it’s fine, sorry. I’m just really tired, don’t listen to me,” I interrupt him. “I have to go anyway, Niall just walked through the door,” I lie and Niall shoots me a questioning glare.

“Oh. Tell him I said hi,” Louis says, sounding small.

“Will do”

“Sorry,” Louis whispers sadly, and _no_. I can’t have that.

“It’s fine, but maybe like… call me later?” I ask, trying to smooth things over.

“’Course, I’ll call, I promise,” he rushes out like he’s trying to smooth things over on his end as well.

“Love you,” I tell him before hanging up quickly, throwing my phone to the side and grunting into my hands.

“What the fuck was that?” Niall asks, like I could possibly know the answer.

“Ugh, I don’t know,” I say honestly, not moving an inch, eyes still closed, “I need a beer.” 

Niall says nothing, but I can practically _hear_ him frowning. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” I groan, covering my face with my hands, feeling the cool metal of my rings against my flushed face. 

“You can’t even see me!” Niall objects. I just grunt in response and Niall goes back to being quiet.

“Why couldn’t he just have stayed the fuck away?” I mutter into my hands.

“Who, Lou?” Niall asks, confused.

“No! Dougie _fucking_ Poynter,” I grumble. “Not that I really care, but Louis could do so much better than fucking Doug, right?” I say, finally turning my head a bit to peek at Niall. Niall, who is pursing his lips and nodding.

“Mhm. Someone better, yeah,” he agrees after what seems like a decade of just nodding. I go back to crushing my face in my hands while I hear Niall getting up. 

“Listen, he doesn’t even care about him anymore, it’s just some weird rebound thing he needs to do,” he tells me and takes a hold of my arms, making me lower my hands. His mouth is a thin line but his eyes are warmer, frown gone. I peer at him. 

“Yeah?”

“Yes, Haz.”

“But why does it have to be _him_?” I groan. Glad that Niall isn’t questioning my reaction any further.

“I don’t like it either, but he’s a big boy,” he says and there’s some kind of pity in his eyes. I say nothing.

“It’ll be fine, Haz,” he says in a low voice. I take a deep breath as I let my shoulders slump, because he’s right. I can’t do anything about it. I give him a small smile and a nod, which seems to satisfy him because he nods once himself, before heading to the fridge and grabbing two bottles of beer. He hands me one and my smile grows, because yes please.

Niall takes a seat beside me on the sofa and clinks his bottle to mine before taking a huge swig from it, I do the same. It’s quiet for a while as we just sit there, leaning against the backrest. I turn on the telly and flip through the channels until landing on some Golden Girls reruns. I start mulling over telling Niall the truth. I mean, now’s a good time as any to tell him why I’m this worked up over Louis and Dougie. Right? I take a deep breath and lick my lips.

“I’m in love with him,” I breathe out. “With Louis.” I cough awkwardly before turning my head to look at Niall. 

“I know,” he shrugs, not looking at me, just taking another sip from his beer, keeping his eyes on the telly.

I’m sorry, _what?_

“You know?” I ask, confused, sitting up straighter, staring at him. 

“Yeap.”

“How?!” I ask, incredulous.

He finally turns around to look at me, a huge smirk plastered on his face.

“Uh, besides the fact that you’re a jealous fucking wreck after that phone call?” he asks, smirking with his entire face. Can I punch him? “Or besides the fact of how you are with him? How _he’s_ with _you_?” he continues, undeterred by my evil glare. “How you light up every time he walks into the room? Or that weird laugh you do when you think he’s funny when he’s really not, or how you orbit around each other but not in like, a needy way? Well, actually no, I take that back, you’re equally needy, the both of you, so co-dependent it’s ridiculous. Should I go on?” he finishes, smirk impossibly wider. 

“Uhh,” is the only thing I’m able to get out.

“Not to mention the fact that you hated Doug ever since day fucking one, before we knew he was a giant piece of shit, before he broke Louis’ heart. I mean, that creepy love stare you do when looking at Louis-”

“What creepy-” I try to interrupt but Niall just keeps on going.

“-was nothing compared to the withering looks of pure fucking loathing you used to give Doug. You were a little more low key jealous about Zayn but I’m guessing that’s just because you had Alex. It’s so crazy obvious how you feel about Louis that I’m actually surprised he can’t see it himself. I mean, I know he’s a little slow on the uptake, but my god mate, you are the least subtle person I know. Well, maybe except for Louis.” After that whole rant he just casually takes another giant swig from his bottle. Like he hasn’t just dropped a huge fucking bomb.

I stare at him, lost for words.

“Am I really that obvious?” I finally ask and Niall chuckles. Hmpf.

“You should just tell him,” he says as an answer.

“I most certainly should not!” I gasp in horror. “He’s my best friend!”

“So?” Niall counters, taking a last swig before putting his bottle down on the table, leaning back, so totally unbothered while I’m reeling.

“ _So_?!” I sputter.

“Yeah, so? Now’s kind of like, the best time? He’s mostly over Zayn, I don’t even think he was ever in love with him in the first place to be honest. He was in love with the _idea_ of Zayn. And I know you agree with me so don’t try to use him as an excuse,” he jabs an accusing finger in my direction. I huff, crossing my arms over my chest.

“What, so I should just call up my _best friend_ , while he’s on some kind of sex-date I might add, and be like ‘yeah, so sorry about earlier, I was being a dick because I’m in love with you, yeah, ha ha I know, stupid right?’, or what? Great fucking idea, that!” I hate how high pitched my voice has become and Niall just raises his eyebrows at me.

“Look at you, this is so cute, honestly,” he sniggers. I would definitely be entitled to punch him now, right? 

“Shut up,” I mutter instead, knee bouncing and chewing a hole in my bottom lip. Because this whole conversation is all really... unexpected and I don’t feel like I’m equipped to handle it.

“Alright, listen here you wanker, tell him or don’t tell him, it’s up to you. But I honestly think it would be a huge mistake, of massive proportions actually, if you don’t. I can’t be sure what that arse face is actually thinking, but this is my qualified guess - Louis is arse over tits for ya Haz, he just doesn’t know it yet because he’s got his head so far up his arse he doesn’t know right from left. So don’t you be an arse as well, alright?” Niall nods at himself like he agrees with his own words.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard the word ‘arse’ being used as many times in a sentence before,” I say while pursing my lips, considering the words in between, “you know, I almost _did_ tell him a couple weeks back…” I confess then.

” Yeah?

”Yeap. I’d been out with some of the guys from work, had a few too many pints and I called him when I got home.”

Niall gives me a deadpan stare, waiting for me to continue./

”I fell asleep instead,” I admit sheepishly, “woke up to him screaming in my ear, thinking I was dead or something.”

Niall howls with laughter.

Ugh, shut up!” I say again, dragging my hand down my face. “But yeah, maybe… maybe seven years is like, enough time to have dragged this out?” I admit finally, mostly to myself.

We fall silent for a bit as I consider it, when suddenly Niall breaks the silence.

“Hey! Maybe you could give him yourself as a birthday present, all wrapped up in some kind of glittery bow!” he exclaims happily. 

I’m not proud of the squawk that escapes my lips at that.

“Maybe tie it around your…” 

“OH MY GOD NIALL SHUT UP!” I shout, interrupting his train of thought, mortified. Niall just cackles while getting up and making his way out to fetch us more beer. So. This is happening then.

I’m telling him.

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so so much for reading! It would light up my life if you wanted to leave a comment. All the love <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for reading, hope you liked it!  
> I would be super happy if you wanted to leave a comment :)


End file.
